VERNON  GROVE; 


OR, 


HEARTS  AS  THEY  ARE 


NEW  YORK: 

RUDD    &   CARLETON,   310  BROADWAY. 
M  DCCCLIX. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  In  the  year  1858,  by 
EUDD  &  CABLETON, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for  the  Southern 
District  of  New  York. 


E.   OEAIGHBAD, 

Printer,  Stereotype!-,  and  Electrol 

Carton  Duilbing, 

81,  83,  and  85  Centre  Street. 


J.    R.    THOMPSON, 

THE    ATTRACTIVE    POET   AND    ADMIRED    PROSE    WRITER, 

Who,  from  his  own 
GARDEN  OF  BEAUTIFUL  CREATIONS, 

Looked  kindly  upon 
VERNON  GROVE,  A  SIMPLE  WAY-SIDE  FLOWER, 

THIS  BOOK 
Is  gratefully  Dedicated. 


VERNON     GROVE: 

OR, 

HEARTS     AS     THEY     ARE. 
CHAPTER  I. 

"Gold!  Gold!  Gold!  Gold! 
Bright  and  yellow,  and  hard,  and  cold, 
Molten,  graven,  hammered,  and  roll'd, 
Heavy  to  get  and  light  to  hold ; 
Hoarded,  bartered,  bought,  and  sold, 
Stolen,  borrowed,  squandered,  doled 
To  the  very  verge  of  the  church-yard  mould  1 
Price  of  many  a  crime  untold; 
Gold!  Gold!  Gold!  Gold!"— HOOD. 

"  Is  she  not  passing  fair  ?"— SHAKSPEARE. 

ROBERT  CLAYTON  had  but  two  passions  in  existence, 
two  all  engrossing  impulses,  love  of  money  and  love  for 
his  wife :  into  these  all  minor  feelings  merged ;  tliey 
were  the  broad  vast  ocean,  the  hungry,  absorbing  reser- 
voir, while  friendship,  religion,  joy,  despair,  hope,  all  that 
commonly  affect  mortals,  were  simply  streams  running 
towards  that  ocean  in  which  they  were  lost ;  thus,  to 


8  Vernon  Grove. 

glance  from  his  gold  into  the  bright  and  beautiful  eyes 
of  his  wife,  to  seem  to  others  but  a  hard,  gain-loving 
man,  and  yet  to  her  a  fond  and  passionately  attached 
husband,  was  aim  and  end  enough  for  him  while  he  ran 
the  race  for  wealth  and  won  it. 

Let  us  look  at  him. 

He  has  closed  his  door  and  his  head  is  bent,  while 
with  pen  in  hand  he  draws  mystic  numbers,  which  to 
you  or  me  are  simply  numbers,  but  to  him  a  calculation 
involving  the  gain  of  many  dollars,  and  he  is  alone. 

There  is  no  need  to  reiterate  his  command  that  while 
in  that  room,  in  no  way  resembling  the  others  in  his 
mansion,  that  cheerless,  uncurtained  room,  in  which  are 
only  papers,  and  maps,  and  a  few  books  of  reference 
upon  the  table,  he  may  remain  undisturbed,  for  the  ser- 
vants are  too  well  trained  to  disobey  an  order  once 
given,  and  in  that  lordly  homestead  there  are  no  patter- 
ing feet  of  children  to  break  the  stillness,  no  fond  child- 
ish cry  of  "  father,"  no  silvery  tinkling  laughter. 

All  is  hushed !  the  man  bending  there  over  his  fast- 
increasing  black  hieroglyphics,  need  fear  no  such  intru- 
sion and  the  calculation  goes  on  bravely  and  well,  while 
the  look  of  interest  becomes  deeper  and  deeper ;  but  at 
last,  even  while  the  calculator  has  unclosed  his  nervous 
fingers  and  grasped  the  empty  air  as  though  he  were 
clutching  a  golden  prize,  some  one  has  dared  with  sacri- 
legious tread  to  cross  the  threshold,  to  open  the  door 
of  that  sacred  retreat  boldly,  and  to  stand  unawed 
before  the  absorbed  inmate,  with  smiling  face,  all  careless 
of  the  mysteries  within. 

As  the  door  swung  open,  a  frown  betokening  anger 
passed  over  the  brow  of  the  slave  of  business,  and  he 


Vernon  Grove.  9 

laid  down  his  pen  with  a  gesture  of  impatience,  but  soon 
a  smile,  like  the  play  of  lightning  over  a  gloomy  sky,  lit 
up  his  heavy  face  as  he  turned  it  towards  the  intruder. 

How  dazzling  she  was  in  the  pride  of  her  radiant  love- 
liness !  Nature  had  given  her  beauty,  and  art  had 
brightened  it,  as  a  setting  adorns  a  gem ! 

He  drew  her  fondly  towards  him,  baptising  her,  as  it 
were,  with  a  multitude  of  new  and  tender  names,  laid 
her  little  gloved  hand  in  his  own  and  looked  almost 
incredulously  upon  it,  as  though  it  was  the  hand  of  a 
fairy,  and  not  one  which  was  his,  his  only ;  smoothed  into 
place  a  truant  wave  of  hair,  praised  her  lips,  her  eyes, 
nay  even  with  almost  womanly  interest  her  dress,  from 
the  fuschias  which  hung  upon  their  trembling  stems 
about  her  face,  on  through  all  the  minutiae  of  her  taste- 
ful toilet,  and  then  telling  her  playfully  that  he  knew 
why  she  had  ventured  into  his  den,  pressed  upon  her  a 
handful  of  glittering  gold. 

But  no,  she  came  not  for  that,  nor  did  she  need  it ; 
she  came  only  to  bid  good  bye,  good  bye  for  a  few 
hours;  he  might  have  missed  her  otherwise,  she  said 
smiling,  as  she  looked  up  into  his  eyes  as  a  star  looks 
down  upon  an  avid  desert. 

The  hard  face  brightened ;  a  face  which  had  often 
turned  coldly  away  from  pleading  poverty  or  the  sick 
man's  prayer.  The  good  bye  was  fondly,  lingeringly  said, 
the  bright  beautiful  form  passed  from  the  room  and  left 
it  in  comparative  darkness,  the  heavy,  absorbed  look 
returned  to  the  face  of  the  calculator,  while  she,  for 
whom  it  had  brightened,  passed  on  with  light  step 
through  the  winding  passages,  out  into  the  noble  corri- 
dor, along  the  line  of  pictures  which  graced  her  luxuri- 
1* 


io  Vernon  Grove. 

ous  home,  then  into  the  sunlight  without,  which  played 
about  her  as  over  some  bright-feathered  bird,  and  to  the 
carriage  which  awaited  her  at  the  door. 

"Drive  quickly,"  she  said  in  a  tone  which  seemed 
accustomed  to  command,  "  or  we  shall  be  too  late  for 
the  Exhibition,  but  first  to  my  brother's." 

The  coachman  obeyed,  and  the  elegant  equipage 
rolled  noiselessly  along  the  streets,  attracting  the  atten- 
tion of  many  a  pedestrian  by  the  perfect  keeping  of  the 
whole;  the  silver  mountings  shone  brilliantly  in  the 
sunshine,  the  dark  green  panels  reflected  the  lights  and 
shadows  on  their  polished  surfaces,  and  the  steeds  had 
that  proud,  almost  conscious  air,  which  betokens  blood, 
and  though  spirited,  were  managed  by  their  skilful 
driver  with  no  unpractised  hand. 

"  Happy  lady,"  laughed  a  child  of  poverty,  who  with 
bare  feet  was  pattering  along  the  dusty  highway,  as  she 
caught  a  glimpse  of  the  coach  and  its  occupant. 

"Happy  lady,"  echoed  a  weary  toil-worn  man,  "what 
prevents  her  from  being  contented  ?  God  knows  that  to 
me  riches  would  bring  happiness." 

"  Happier  child  and  laborer,"  said  the  invisible  spirits 
of  the  air,  "for  you  life  has  some  object;  your  sleep  is 
sweet ;  ye  labor  lor  an  end ;  for  her  the  only  end  is 
pleasure,  and  pleasure  brings  not  peace." 

The  carriage  stopped  before  a  fine  mansion,  which  in 
spite  of  its  grandeur  and  perfect  proportions  was  a 
gloomy  one,  for  the  closed  windows  almost  betokened 
that  it  was  uninhabited  ;  but  Isabel  Clayton  seemed  at 
home  there,  as  opening  the  door  and  shutting  it  again 
noiselessly,  and  then  ascending  the  stairs,  she  knocked 
gently  at  the  door  of  a  chamber. 


Vernon  Grove.  1 1 

It  was  carefully  unfastened  from  within,  and  a  phy- 
sician stood  before  her,  who  bowed  and  raised  his  finger 
warningly,  as  if  commanding  silence,  and  pointed 
towards  the  room  which  he  had  just  left. 

"  Is  the  crisis  passed  ?"  she  whispered  somewhat 
anxiously,  "  is  my  brother  out  of  danger  ?" 

"  Yes,"  was  the  answer,  "  I  am  happy  to  say  that  the 
crisis  is  past,  and  that  I  can  pronounce  my  patient  cured 
at  least  of  his  fever,  but" — 

The  lady's  little  foot  tapped  the  floor  impatiently. 
"  Your  pardon,  Dr.  Bailey ;  let  me  beseech  you  to  onat 
for  once  that  ominous  but ;  I  really  believe  that  that 
word  is  as  necessary  now  to  a  physician  as  a  gold-headed 
cane  was  in  the  olden  time ;  it  betokens  all  things,  that 
your  patient  may  live  or  die,  that  you  mean  to  cure  or 
kill  him." 

The  doctor  knit  his  brow  as  if  doubting  whether  to 
endure  so  rude  a  speech,  even  from  such  rich  rosy  lips, 
but  his  time  was  so  valuable  that  he  simply  vented  his 
indignation  in  a  quick  impatient  growl,  and  forthwith 
informed  the  visitor  of  her  brother's  condition. 

"  I  was  about  to  say,  madam,"  he  continued,  "  that 
Mr.  Vernon  no  longer  nacded  my  services,  but  that  the 
fever  has  left  him  totally  blind." 

'•'•Blind!  Merciful  heaven!"  said  the  lady,  with  a 
shudder ;  "  that,  indeed,  is  a  misfortune  ;  wrhat  will  he 
do,  think  you,  with  his  beautiful  pictures,  his  statuary, 
his  library,  now  that  he  can  no  longer  enjoy  them  ?  But 
I  am  trespassing  upon  your  time  when  I  can  learn  all 
from  his  own  lips.  I  can  see  him,  may  I  not  ?" 

"  I  suppose  so, — yes,  of  course,"  said  the  physician 
rather  doubtfully,  hesitating  as  to  the  expediency  of 


12  Vernon  Grove. 

admitting  even  a  sister  to  his  patient's  room,  "  but  as 
you  value  his  well-being,  do  not  broach  any  agitating 
subjects, — and  above  all,  do  not  make  a  long  stay." 

This  last  warning  was  not  needed;  he  might  have 
spared  himself  the  trouble  of  adding  it. 

The  door  opened  once  more  and  admitted  Isabel 
Clayton  to  her  brother's  chamber,  shaded  almost  to 
entire  darkness  by  the  heavy  curtains  and  closed 
blinds. 

"  You  are  better  at  last,  Richard,"  she  said,  taking 
one  of  his  hands  which  was  white  and  thin  from  long 
confinement,  "  the  doctor  has  just  told  me  so ;  need  I 
tell  you  how  rejoiced  I  am  to  hear  it  ?" 

"  Thank  you,  Isabel ;  I  hope  that  you  have  enjoyed 
your  little  pleasure  trip ;  I  am  glad  to  see  you  here ;  no, 
I  forget ;  I  mean  that  I  am  glad  to  hear  the  sound  of 
your  voice  ;  I  suppose  that  Dr.  Bailey  has  told  you  all, 
and  that  it  is  as  superfluous  as  it  would  be  painful  for 
me  to  repeat  it." 

"  Yes,  it  is  very,  very  dreadful !" 

"  Only  dreadful,  Isabel?"  he  exclaimed,  starting  up 
and  then  sinking  back  upon  the  pillow  with  a  sigh  of 
exhaustion,  "  that  is  a  calm,  §old,  meaningless  word  to 
express  such  an  affliction  as  mine ;  why,  a  stormy  day  is 
simply  dreadful,  a  headache  dreadful, — why  not  have 
said  the  truth  at  once,  that  my  life  will  be  utterly  use- 
less,— really  not  worth  the  having !" 

"  Hush,  Richard,"  said  his  sister,  half  frightened  at 
his  despairing  mood  and  fierce  reckless  words,  "you 
must  look  upon  the  other  side  of  the  picture ;  there  is 
always  a  bright  side  you  know"  (it  was  a  new  thing  for 
Isabel  Clayton  to  moralize) ;  "  let  me  see ;  friends  will 


Vernon  Grove.  13 

flock  around  you,  of  course,  and  the  same  hand  that  has 
closed  your  eyes  to  the  beauties  of  life,  has  closed  them 
likewise,  you  must  remember,  to  all  that  is  repulsive. 
If  I  had  only  time  to  think,  I  might  enumerate  many 
comforts  which  are  still  left  you ;  but  I  have  an  engage- 
ment this  morning  which  I  must  go  to  fulfil." 

"  What,  so  soon  ?" 

"  Now,  Richard,  any  one  hearing  your  querulous  tone 
would  think  that  I  had  been  at  your  bed-side  but  one 
minute,  when  I  can  assure  you  that  thirty  minutes  have 
elapsed  since  I  entered;  take  care  of  yourself ;  I  will 
come  again  soon,  daily,  until  you  are  better, — and  now 
good  bye  until  to-morrow." 

The  sick  man  groaned  aloud  as  she  left  the  room. 
"  This  is  the  beginning,"  he  said,  "  always  and  to  every 
one  a  burden ;  if  she,  my  sister,  of  whom  I  might  have 
expected  at  least  a  semblance  of  interest,  leaves  me  here 
desolate  in  a  solitude  which  is  almost  madness,  what  am 
I  to  hope  from  others  ?  Great  heaven ! — this  is  indeed 
a  trial  beyond  endurance!  It  would  be  a  mercy  to 
take  my  worthless  life,  and  I  would  yield  it  up  cheer- 
fully since  the  light  in  it  is  darkened  for  ever." 

It  was  well  that  the  prayer  of  that  despairing  heart 
was  not  regarded.  God  was  merciful  in  another  Avay, 
and  spared  his  life, — perhaps  for  greater  suffering  and 
trial  to  prepare  him  better  for  the  mysterious  change 
which  he  coveted, — perhaps  for  some  more  than  com- 
pensating joy. 


CHAPTER  II. 

"Blind  to  the  bright  blue  sky,  the  glorious  sun, 

The  mild  pale  moon,  the  vesper  star's  sweet  blaze ; 
Blind  to  the  soft  green  fields  where  brooklets  run, 

The  hills  where  linger  sunset's  parting  rays. 
Blind  to  the  bright  eye's  most  exprassive  beam, 

The  cheek's  rich  dyes  of  beauty,  and  the  form 
Whose  symmetry  might  gild  the  sculptor's  dream 

Of  young  Apollo,  and  his  fancy  warm." 

IT  was  but  too  true.  Richard  Vernon  was  hopelessly, 
irrevocably  blind.  Weary  of  the  world  too  he  became, 
for  his  was  not  a  spirit  to  sit  with  folded  arms  under  its 
affliction,  but  like  a  caged  lion  to  chafe  against  the  bars 
which  held  it  prisoner.  Born  in  a  luxurious  city,  proud, 
passionate,  wealthy,  his  misfortune,  when  it  came  to  him 
after  a  terrible  illness,  in  which  he  hovered  for  days 
between  life  and  death,  made  him  suspicious,  cold,  and 
reserved.  It  was  a  double  misfortune  to  him,  who  had 
educated  his  whole  nature  to  the  worship  of  beauty, 
seeking  it  in  the  minutest  shell  or  flower,  in  the  eyes  of 
an  unconscious  infant  as  well  as  on  the  brow  of  a  sculp- 
tured Titan,  to  feel  himself  stranded  on  a  shore  of  dark- 
ness, where  an  eternal  gloom  took  the  place  of  the 
midnight  stars,  and  a  boundless  blank  replaced  the 
smiling  sunshine  of  the  morn  with  only  the  memory  of 
the  beautiful  to  cheer  him.  His  very  wealth  became  at 
times  a  source  of  annoyance  to  him,  for,  from  his 


Vernon  Grove.  15 

gloomy  brooding  heart  came  thoughts  of  mistrust 
against  those  who  had  loved  him  when  he  could  be  of 
and  among  them,  to  pamper  their  tastes,  and,  who  now 
sought  from  others  the  entertainment  which  he  could 
not  give.  The  gay  crowd,  indeed,  among  whom  he  had 
lived,  wondered  for  a  season,  condoled  and  pitied,  and 
even  occasionally  spared  an  hour  from  their  pursuit  of 
pleasure  to  cheer  the  lonely  man  in  his  solitary,  darkened 
room  ;  but  Vernon  felt,  with  the  apathy  of  a  man  of  the 
world,  that  the  beauty,  interest,  and  glory  of  life  had 
departed,  and  that  his  dim  apartment  was  no  place  for 
the  butterflies  of  Fashion  to  fold  their  gaudy  wings,  and 
he  soon  wearied  of  visits  which  he  knew  were  mere  out- 
ward forms  of  conventional  ceremony. 

His  sister,  his  only  relative,  gave  him,  it  is  true,  what 
sympathy  she  could  spare,  and  with  her  soft  jewelled 
hand  in  his,  told  him  of  the  outer  life  which  he  had  been 
compelled  to  relinquish,  sometimes  of  a  new  ball-room 
melody,  to  which,  while  she  sang,  she  kept  time  with 
her  restless  feet,  or  of  some  new  work  of  art  in  vogue, 
but  even  in  her  softly  modulated  voice  he  could  detect 
a  scarcely  disguised  desire  to  be  in  the  sunshine  once 
more,  and  freed  from  his  querulous  repinings.  He  re- 
membered, too,  what  she  was  to  that  outer  world,  and 
how  unconsciously  to  her  the  adulation  that  she  met 
with  there,  together  with  the  blind  devotion  of  an 
indulgent  husband,  helped  to  foster  her  faults  of  cha- 
racter, the  chief  of  which  were  thoughtlessness  and 
selfishness. 

But  Vernon  had  one  link  still  bright  and  untarnished, 
which  kept  him  from  total  despair. 

It  is  a  truth  that  cannot  be  doubted,  because  so  often 


16  Vernon  Grove. 

proved,  that  more  powerful,  more  self-abnegating  friend- 
ships exist  between  men  than  between  women  j  indeed, 
among  the  latter  there  is  often  a  frivolous  semblance  of 
friendship  which  the  faintest  breath  of  the  world  may 
dissolve,  but  when  man  grasps  the  hand  of  his  brother 
man,  either  with  open  words  and  promises  of  truth,  or  a 
silent  vow,  almost  the  more  powerful  because  unheard, 
unuttered,  the  bond  cannot  be  broken,  no  strength  can 
overcome  the  faithful  grasp,  no  shock  can  sever  the 
union.  Voices  around  may  whisper  of  unworthiness, 
the  stronger  is  the  tie ;  misfortunes  may  come,  poverty, 
sickness,  desolation,  and  the  clasp  is  still  firm  and  sure 
unto  death. 

Happily  for  Vernon,  though  so  isolated,  he  had  found 
such  a  friend  in  Albert  Lin  wood,  a  young  artist  of  great 
promise,  who,  though  several  years  his  junior,  would 
steal  away  from  an  unfinished  picture  in  his  studio,  to 
converse  with  or  read  to  him  from  the  books  which  lie 
loved  best ;  and  many  an  hour,  which  spent  otherwise, 
might  have  helped  him  on  to  fame,  found  him  with  Vernon, 
whose  rebellious  spirit  was  always  calmer  for  his  coming. 

It  was  in  one  of  these  visits  that  Albert  remonstrated 
with  him  upon  the  objectless  life  he  was  leading. 

"  Are  you  not  weary,"  he  said,  "  of  these  everlasting 
city  surroundings  ?  Would  you  not  be  happier,  better, 
where  the  sounds  are  less  harsh,  and  where  you  can  feel 
that  there  are  broader  glimpses  of  the  blue  sky  ?" 

"That  wTord  happiness,"  replied  Vernon  moodily, 
"  has  long  since  been  blotted  out  of  my  vocabulary." 

"  And  yet,  if  you  will  listen  for  a  moment,"  replied 
Albert,  "  perhaps  you  would  feel  a  sensation  akin  to  it ; 
for  I  might  arouse  you  into  something  like  action. 


Vernon  Grove.  iy 

Leave  the  city  for  a  while  and  take  up  your  abode  in 
some  pretty  rural  place ;  the  change  would  benefit  you, 
I  know,  and  you  would  soon  realize  the  truism  that  God 
especially  made  the  country;  you  will  stagnate  body 
and  soul  here." 

Vernon  interrupted  his  friend  with  a  gesture  of  im- 
patience. 

"  You  seem  to  be  leagued  with  the  rest,  Linwood,  in 
trying  to  deprive  me  of  even  the  few  remaining  plea- 
sures which  I  have  left ;  do  you  not  see  that  I  need 
some  excitement  to  bear  me  up?  Just  consider  my 
lonely  position  in  such  a  place;  I  would  scarcely  ask 
you  to  relinquish  your  advantages  here  to  come  and 
cheer  me, — Isabel  would  pine  away  and  die  in  such  a 
solitude,  and  other  friends  I  care  not  to  have.  No,  let  me 
remain  where  I  can  at  least  hear  an  echo  from  the  world 
which  I  used  to  enjoy  so  much;  even  in  a  reflected 
rainbow  there  are  some  gleams  of  beauty  you  know." 

"And  yet,  here  you  are  wretched,"  answered  Lin- 
wood,  earnestly,  "  all  your  fine  qualities  are  beclouded, 
you  are  growing  misanthropic  and  dreamy,  and  need  a 
change.  Trust  me,  Yernon,  and  listen  to  me ;  rouse 
yourself  from  this  apathy,  take  a  pleasant  house  in  the 
country  with  extensive  grounds,  hire  laborers,  cultivate 
your  fields,  sow  your  gardens,  and  reap  their  fruit ;  do 
something ;  be  anything  but  a  mere  clod  ;  bring  health 
back  again  to  your  frame  by  constant  exercise  and  out- 
of-door  life,  and  in  the  evening  employ  your  servant, 
who  has  proved  himself,  in  his  capacity  of  attendant, 
trusty  and  intelligent,  in  reading  good  practical  books, 
which  will  keep  your  mind  awake  and  your  knowledge 
of  current  events  as  thorough  as  before  your  blindness." 


i8  Vernon  Grove. 

Linwood  stopped  for  breath,  for  his  zeal  for  his  friend 
had  quickened  his  usual  measured  tone,  and  the  artist 
thought  generally  more  than  he  spoke. 

"  Tell  me  when  your  Utopian  sketch  is  quite  finished," 
said  Vernon,  mockingly,  and  leaning  back,  apparently 
without  interest,  into  a  more  comfortable  position  ;  but 
Linwood,  not  heeding  the  interruption,  continued  his 
exhortations. 

"  Then  for  me,  you  can  fit  up  an  artist's  room,  and  I 
will  paint  your  grounds,  your  hill-tops,  and  meadows,  in 
pictures  which  might  make  me  immortal,  perchance,  and 
though  the  city  must  claim  me  sometimes,  Vernon,  my 
country  studio  will  be  my  real  home.  And  now  my 
story  is  done,  as  they  say  in  the  nursery  books;  this 
simple,  rustic  life  may -not  exactly  suit  you,  but  I  pro- 
mise you  one  thing,  that  the  result  will  be  peace  of 
mind." 

"  I  own  that  you  paint  a  picture  with  words  as  grace- 
fully as  you  do  with  your  pencil ;"  replied  Vernon,  "  but 
still  you  must  excuse  me  from  being  the  principal  figure 
in  it,  even  though  it  have  meadows  and  hills  in  the  fore- 
ground, and  peace  of  mind  in  the  perspective.  Excuse 
me,  I  shall  do  very  well  where  I  am." 

"  No,"  said  Linwood,  rising  and  speaking  with  grow- 
ing earnestness,  "  you  will  not,  and  you  know  it  ;  you 
know  that  each  day  finds  you  more  restless  than  the 
last,  and  I  sometimes  think  that  even  my  favorite 
country  plan  will  not  benefit  you ;  you  need  the  tender- 
est  devotion  and  care,  you  need  a  sister's  sympathy  and 
love,  or  finally,  if  I  incur  your  displeasure  for  it,  I  must 
be  frank  and  speak  my  mind,  you  need  the  watchful 
tenderness  of  a  wife." 


Vernon  Grove.  19 

A  look  of  intense  scorn  and  incredulity  passed  over 
Vernon's  face  as  Lin  wood  thus  spoke,  and  then  breaking 
forth  impetuously  in  a  torrent  of  words,  he  effectually 
silenced  Linwood's  well-meant  conversation. 

"  That  would  be  something  beyond  the  miraculous, 
the  moment,  I  mean,  when  any  fair,  refined,  delicate 
woman  placed  her  hand  in  mine  to  follow  a  blind  man's 
fortunes.  Ah,  Linwood,  you  have  something  yet  to 
learn  of  human  nature  ;  where  have  you  been  that  you 
have  not  heard  that  my  misfortune  has  been  the  theme 
of  conversation  for  a  month,  and  how  one  fair  lady  has 
said  that  she  pitied  me  because  I  could  no  longer  use 
my  glorious  eyes  in  a  flirtation ;  another,  that  she  would, 
because  of  my  affliction,  lose  the  best  time-keeper  in  the 
fashionable  dances ;  while  a  third,"  and  here  Vernon's 
voice  trembled  and  faltered,  "  while  a  third,  who  might 
have  spared  me  such  words  and  have  been  at  least  silent, 
whispered  to  a  friend  that  though  the  light  of  my  eyes 
had  departed,  I  had  not  lost  my  fortune !  If  you  can 
convert  these,  Linwood,  into  watchful  and  tender  wives, 
women  to  love  and  cherish,  you  hold  a  magician's  wand. 
But  it  may  not  be,  my  path  in  life  is  clear  to  me ;  blind, 
almost  forsaken,  poor  amid  much  wealth,  because  not 
able  to  enjoy  it,  I  must  walk  the  hard,  stony,  rough 
road  of  life  alone." 

"  And  yet  not  quite  alone,"  said  Linwood,  quickly,  as 
he  grasped  his  friend's  hand. 

"  No,  by  heaven,  there  I  was  wrong,"  said  Vernon, 
his  voice  filled  with  emotion,  "  forgive  me,  my  friend, 
not  entirely  alone,  thank  God,  under  the  light  of  your 
watchful  eyes  and  guided  by  your  faithful  arm." 


CHAPTER  IE. 

"I  know  a  house,  its  open  doora 

"Wide  set  to  catch  the  scented  breeze, 
"While,  dimpling  all  the  oaken  floors, 

Faint  shadows  of  the  swaying  trees 
Pass  in  and  out  like  spectral  things, 

Dim  creatures  born  of  summer  light, 
'Till  through  the  deepening  twilight  springs 

A  paler  radiance  of  the  night. 

Across  the  broad  unbroken  glade, 

Which  girds  this  house  on  either  hand, 
The  beach-clumps  sprinkle  showers  of  shade; — 

These  out-posts  of  the  forest  stand 
And  guard  the  kingdom  of  the  deer, 

The  stillness  of  their  charmed  domain, 
Where  Spring  chimes  matin  every  year, 

And  Autumn  leaves  fall  down  like  rain." 

— Miss  PARKES. 

ALBERT  LINWOOD  departed  from  his  friend's  presence, 
disappointed  that  he  had  not  succeeded  in  his  endeavors 
to  exchange  his  monotonous  city  life  for  a  more  varied 
existence,  but  a  spirit  so  earnest  as  his  had  its  reward, 
and  Vernon,  left  to  himself,  pondered  upon  their  late 
conversation. 

Each  time  that  he  reconsidered  the  matter,  it  appeared 
more  practicable  to  him,  and  sometimes  almost  inviting ; 
and  in  this  world  of  changes,  where  some  one  has  said 
that  we  are  so  different  at  different  times  that  we  could 


Vernon  Grove.  21 

write  a  letter,  without  any  inconsistency,  to  "  our  dear 
yesterday's  selves,"  it  is  not  surprising  that  it  all  ended 
in  Vernon's  giving  to  Linwood  full  power  to  purchase  a 
desirable  residence. 

This  task  the  latter  gladly  undertook,  and  succeeded 
so  well  that  after  they  had  been  established  in  the  new 
home  a  few  days,  and  Vernon  seemed  to  feel  as  his 
friend  had  predicted,  better  and  happier,  he  acknow- 
ledged that  Linwood  had  indeed  done  all  things  for  the 
best. 

All  his  pictures  and  works  of  art  were  sent  to  orna- ' 
ment  his  new  home,  and  every  thing  that  had  any  claim 
to  beauty  in  his  town  residence  was  removed  to  the 
country-seat,  while  many  additions  were  made  suitable 
to  the  style  of  the  rural  but  elegant  mansion. 

It  was  pleasant,  and  yet  touching,  to  see  the  interest 
that  the  blind  man  took  in  all  that  appertained  to  his 
present  abode  and  the  surrounding  grounds ;  the  pic- 
tures were  all  hung  under  his  express  directions,  the 
furniture  arranged  with  a  view  to  his  peculiar  tastes, 
and  even  the  little  articles  of  vertu,  which  were  beautiful, 
and  numerous  curiosities  from  all  climes  under  the  sun, 
were  placed  to  suit  his  fancy ;  and  then  the  outward 
details,  which  the  last  occupant  had  left  uncared  for, 
were  minutely  described  to  Vernon,  who  with  a  buoyant 
step  and  heightened  color,  would  be  seen  directing  the 
workmen,  and  the  result  was  ever  a  happy  one,  for  his 
taste,  by  practice  and  long  experience,  was  never  at  fault. 

Thus,  if  the  change  brought  not  happiness,  it  at  least 
brought  occupation,  and  Vernon,  as  he  sat  at  evening 
thinking  of  his  plans  for  the  morrow,  or  what  he  had 
achieved  each  day,  almost  fancied  that  he  had  lost  his 


22  Vernon  Grove. 

identity,  so  different  was  he  from  the  Vernon  who,  in 
times  past,  had  looked  with  contempt  upon  anything 
which  savored  of  the  retirement  of  the  country. 

Nor  was  Linwood's  pencil  idle,  for  the  beautiful  land- 
scape around  afforded  him  an  incessant  study,  and  he 
never  wearied  of  gazing  at  the  light  and  shade  of  the 
fine  panorama. 

In  the  front  of  the  house  there  lay  a  well-kept  lawn, 
almost  English  in  its  smoothness  and  verdure,  which 
curved  downward  gradually  until  it  was  lost  in  the 
valley  below.  Trees  of  every  variety  decked  this  velvet 
carpet,  sometimes  in  clusters,  but  oftener  in  solitary 
beauty,  while  in  the  vale  below  grew  smaller  shrubs, 
which  disappeared  as  the  depression  swelled  into  an 
imposing  hill  covered  thickly  with  forest  trees,  present- 
ing from  the  mansion  an  ever-varied  picture  during 
each  succeeding  season  of  the  year.  Spring  brought 
forth  the  tender  budding  green,  summer  the  darker- 
polished  foliage  of  the  maturer  leaves,  while  the  autumn 
and  winter  phase  each  claimed  admiration — the  one,  for 
the  myriad  shades  and  colors  painted  against  the  sky, 
the  other,  for  the  pure  snowy  drapery  of  the  boughs, 
which  rose  mysterious  and  weird-like,  like  an  assemblage 
of  white-robed  spirits  watching  silently  over  the  earth. 

On  the  right  stretched  a  silver  river,  not  so  distant  but 
that  a  passing  sail  might  be  seen  occasionally  upon  its 
placid  bosom,  until  lost  in  the  shading  woods  ;  while  on 
the  left,  and  in  the  far  distance,  rose  a  mountain  with  its 
cragged  blue  peaks  in  full  relief  against  the  sky. 

Nor  must  the  rear  of  the  house  be  left  undescribecl, 
for  it  was  here  that  Vernon  was  most  constantly  occu- 
pied, and  here  a  garden  was  laid  out  around  an  artificial 


Vernon  Grove.  23 

lake,  whose  waters  ever  kept  the  foliage  green.  Indeed, 
Linwood  had  chosen  well  for  his  friend,  and  Vernon 
would  sit  for  hours  listening  to  his  praises  of  the  location, — 
at  morning  when  the  sun  first  tinged  the  waters  of  the 
quiet  river,  at  mid-day,  when  the  artist's  eyes  would  kin- 
dle at  the  flickered  light  and  shade  upon  the  mountain 
scene,  or  in  the  coming  hour  of  night,  when  in  the  still- 
ness they'  could  hear  the  forest  trees,  touched  by  the 
evening  breeze,  whisper  a  farewell  to  the  day. 

But  Vernon  soon  had  another  cause  for  anxiety  beside 
his  own  life-affliction,  for  not  many  months  had  passed 
before  he  discovered  that  while  he  became  each  day 
more  reconciled  to  his  own  changed  situation,  Linwood 
gradually  seemed  to  grow  weary  of  the  contracted  sphere. 
lie  had  transferred  to  canvas  all  the  striking  views  in 
the  neighborhood  with  exemplary  patience,  considering 
that  his  forte  lay  rather  in  portraying  the  human  face 
divine ;  but  though  he  felt  a  weariness  pressing  upon  his 
spirits,  he  made  an  effort,  and  partially  succeeded,  to  con- 
ceal all  appearance  of  ennui ;  but  Vernon,  whose  percep- 
tions seemed  more  acute  since  he  had  been  deprived  of 
sight,  soon  discovered  the  fact. 

It  seemed  to  display  itself  more  after  Linwood's  return 
from  visits  to  the  city  where  he  often  went,  and  though 
Vernon  deplored  the  change,  after  a  severe  struggle  with 
himself,  he  determined  no  longer  to  keep  his  beloved 
friend  and  companion  in  a  solitude  which  agreed  not 
with  his  ardent  and  ambitious  temperament,  and  it  was 
then  that  he  decided  to  offer  him  means  to  go  abroad 
and  to  improve  himself  in  the  art  which  was  the  daily 
worship  of  his  life. 

When  Vernon  calmly  told  Linwood  of  his  proposition, 


24  Vernon  Grove. 

little  did  he  imagine  that  under  that  passionless  exterior 
there  was  a  struggle  that  it  seemed  almost  impossible  for 
the  speaker  to  conceal ;  but  Linwood's  own  heart  was 
filled  with  such  a  glow  of  joy  that  it  colored  everything 
around  with  its  own  rosy  hue,  and  he  forgot  for  a  mo- 
ment the  lonely  hours  that  his  absence  would  bring.  He 
seemed  floating  in  the  atmosphere  of  a  delicious  dream ; 
his  life-long  wish  had  ever  been  to  go  abroad,  but  the 
purse  of  a  young  artist  who  had  yet  fame  to  win  was 
too  scantily  filled  for  him  to  entertain  any  such  Utopian 
idea. 

For  a  moment  only,  however,  did  he  forget  his  friend 
in  the  brilliant  vision  which  arose  before  him,  for  glanc- 
ing at  him  to  express  his  thanks,  he  saw,  with  dismay, 
what  a  contrast  his  face  presented  to  the  feelings  which 
pervaded  his  own  breast ;  and  his  refusal  to  leave  him, 
his  thanks  for  his  generous  offer,  and  the  hope  that  he 
would  forgive  his  momentary  forgetfulness  of  Vernon's 
lonely  position  came  in  eloquent  words  from  his  lips. 

But  Richard  would  take  no  refusal ;  calmly  they  sat 
down  to  talk  the  matter  over  as  he  told  him  of  his  plans 
and  portrayed  the  advantages  which  a  study  of  the  old 
masters  would  afford,  until  at  last  Linwood  felt  that  to 
refuse  his  friend's  generous  offer  would  be  unwise  and 
ungrateful,  and  so,  with  a  heart  divided  between  joyful 
and  sorrowful  emotions,  the  hope  of  his  life  was  realized ; 
he  was  on  his  way  to  the  land  of  his  many  prayers,  the 
birth-place,  the  home,  and  the  grave  of  the  immortal 
painters  of  the  past. 

After  the  departure  of  his  friend,  Vernon  turned  himself 
more  resolutely  than  ever  to  his  plans  for  the  improve- 
ment of  his  country-seat,  and  with  his  ever-watchful  ser- 


Vernon  Grove.  25 

vant,  made  more  extended  excursions  across  the  woods, 
which  bounded  his  lands,  into  the  more  open  country  be- 
yond. It  was  in  one  of  these  excursions,  and  almost  be- 
fore they  were  aware  of  it,  that  they  suddenly  found 
themselves  upon  the  little  domain  which  was  occupied 
by  the  cottage  of  Mrs.  Gordon,  an  aged  lady,  whose 
slender  means,  and  whose  inclination,  perhaps,  kept  her 
a  resident  of  the  country,  and  it  was  here  she  lived  in 
complete  retirement  during  the  whole  year,  with  only 
her  little  grandchild  Sybil  for  companionship,  and  an 
old  domestic  who  daily  became  more  incapacitated  for 
labor. 

A  cup  of  cold  water,  asked  for  and  bestowed,  is  often 
a  prelude  to  a  more  extended  acquaintance,  and  before 
many  moments  Vernon  had  gained  several  particulars 
of  the  history  of  his  hostess,  which  was  a  very  sad  one, 
inasmuch  as  it  included  loss  of  property  and  the  death 
of  loved  ones  ;  but  Vernon's  sympathy  was  still  more  en- 
listed by  her  telling  him,  after  she  had  learned  his  name 
that  his  mother  and  herself  had  been  friends  in  early  life, 
that  they  had  shared  the  same  apartment  at  school,  and 
many  an  act  of  kindness  on  each  side  wras  narrated  by 
her  with  an  earnestness  which  interested  Vernon,  and  ac- 
quainted him  with  several  traits  of  his  mother's  early 
years.  Vernon  would  have  lingered  for  hours  by  the 
cottage  door,  but  as  twilight  was  approaching,  he  de- 
parted with  his  guide,  after  having  promised  a  repetition 
of  his  visit. 

Almost  daily,  after  this  incident,  many  comforts  found 
their  way  to  Mrs.  Gordon's  home,  and  the  early  friend 
of  his  mother  became  another  object  of  interest  to  Ver- 
non. The  chance  acquaintance  ended,  at  last,  with  an 
2 


26  Vernon  Grove. 

invitation  from  Vernon  to  Mrs.  Gordon  and  the  child  to 
remove  from  the  cottage  to  his  own  home,  and  for  fear 
that  the  former  might  feel  the  obligation  too  great  to 
accept,  Vernon  added,  that  she,  in  return,  could  be  the 
superior  of  his  household,  and  even  extend  her  motherly 
care  over  him  in  his  helpless  blindness. 

After  much  doubting  and  earnest  thought  on  Mrs. 
Gordon's  part,  the  change  was  made ;  but  though  she 
clearly  saw  the  advantages  of  it,  a  hard  struggle  it  be- 
came for  her  to  decide  in  its  favor,  as  she  had  long  been 
attached  to  the  humble  roof  under  which  she  had  lived 
peacefully  for  so  many  years. 

But  to  the  little  child,  particularly,  who  had  grown  at 
the  side  of  her  grandmother  like  the  untrained  wood- 
bine over  the  casement,  the  prospect  of  a  grand  home, 
studied  behavior,  and  the  thought  of  the  solemn  aspect 
of  the  blind  man,  brought  only  tears.  Each  tree  was 
dear  to  her,  each  flower  peculiarly  hers,  for  craving 
knowledge  without  having  any  instruction  beyond  the 
mere  rudiments  of  book-learning,  intelligent  without  the 
means  of  satisfying  her  thirst  for  information,  her 
thoughts  had  been  directed  to  the  wonders  of  nature, 
and  by  patient  investigation  she  had  solved  many  a  prob- 
lem for  herself,  which  a  scientific  naturalist  would  only 
have  arrived  at  by  long  study  and  numerous  books  of 
reference. 

With  the  birds  her  day  began,  and  the  rising  sun 
found  her  guiding  the  tendrils  of  a  pet  vine,  or  singing 
among  her  own  songsters  of  the  wood;  at  mid-day, 
obedient  to  her  grandmother's  call,  she  learned  her  daily 
lesson,  and  the  conscientious  teacher  imparted  all  that 
she  could  from  her  own  slender  store  of  knowledge. 


Vernon  Grove.  27 

The  father  and  mother  of  the  child  had  both  been  re- 
markable, the  one  for  his  bright,  quick  intelligence,  the 
other  for  her  beauty,  which  was  exquisite,  though  she 
resembled  the  flower  which  blooms  in  the  morning  only 
to  wither  in  the  noon-day  sun.  Both  lived  for  a  brief 
season  for  each  other,  but  soon  found  an  early  grave, 
passing  to  a  better  inheritance  than  brilliant  intellect  and 
beauty  in  another  world. 

Thus  the  poetry  of  Sybil's  life  was  a  legacy  from  those 
united  spirits,  and  the  prose  a  daily  gift  from  the  hands 
of  her  worthy  grandmother,  whose  practical  lessons  of 
duty  helped  to  give  a  balance  to  the  child's  character. 

The  last  adieus  were  said,  the  grand  equipage  of  their 
wealthy  neighbor  took  them  away  from  their  vine-co- 
vered cottage,  and  all  the  world  was  bright  and  beautiful, 
while  the  woods  were  vocal  with  songs,  but  still  Mrs. 
Gordon  found  herself  checking  a  rising  sigh,  and  Sybil, 
as  she  turned  back  to  gaze  once  more  with  tearful  eyes 
upon  the  beloved  scene,  felt  that  she  had  left  her  whole 
heart  there  among  the  pet  birds  and  flowers  of  her  fast 
disappearing  cottage  home. 

Richard  Vernon  met  them  at  the  door  of  his  beautiful 
mansion  with  a  winning  smile  of  welcome,  which  was 
brilliant  enough  without  the  light  of  his  eyes,  which  in 
other  days  had  beamed  so  brightly.  The  presence  of 
the  child,  indeed,  he  scarcely  noticed,  except  by  telling 
Mrs.  Gordon  that  she  must  have  all  her  wants  supplied ; 
and  Sybil,  after  arranging  her  little  wardrobe  and  gazing 
from  the  window  in  her  pretty  apartment  at  the  view 
of  trees  and  the  silver  stream,  hill,  and  glowing  skies, 
felt  bewildered  and  home-sick,  and  wished  herself  once 
more  in  her  own  low-ceiled  room. 


28  Vernon  Grove. 

Nor  were  things  brighter  or  better  in  the  little  maid- 
en's troubled  heart  when  her  grandmother  desired  her 
presence  below  ;  with  step,  all  unlike  the  bounding  step 
of  the  cottage  girl,  she  descended  the  stairs  and  sat 
demurely  down,  awed  by  the  stillness  of  the  great  rooms, 
feeling  very  awkward,  and  scarcely  allowing  herself  to 
gaze  upon  the  beautiful  pictures  which  adorned  the  walls, 
though  in  after  years  those  very  pictures  became  to  her 
as  household  gods,  and  she  knew  each  curve,  and  light, 
and  shadow  of  their  exquisite  proportions. 

And  again  at  evening  it  was  not  more  cheerful  for  the 
little  stranger,  as  she  sat  in  the  damask-cushioned  chair 
longing  for  her  own  uncushioned  rustic  seat,  for  Mrs. 
Gordon  and  her  host  monopolized  all  the  conversation 
with  their  plans  for  the  future,  and  so  it  came  to  pass 
that  long  before  her  cottage  bedtime,  Sybil  fell  fast 
asleep  in  one  of  the  great  armchairs,  sighing  deeply  as 
the  drooping  lids  at  last  closed  tightly  over  her  eyes. 

Poor,  little,  lonely  child,  she  was  glad  to  find  forget- 
fulness  in  sleep,  for  the  feeling  of  home-sickness,  when  it 
comes  to  youth  is  a  positive  pain,  dragging  down  the 
young  spirit  to  unutterable  misery,  for  which  tears  are 
sometimes  a  relief,  but  which  is  often  too  deep  to  be 
healed  except  by  the  comforting  hand  of  Time.  Many 
prayers  are  sent  daily,  hourly,  from  suffering,  or  pitying, 
or  sympathising  hearts  upward  to  God's  mercy -seat,  but 
no  prayer  should  be  more  fervent  than  this,  no  prayer 
is  more  needed  than  this — "God  pity  the  home-sick 
child !  " 

Had  Vernon's  artist  friend  been  seated  with  the  trio 
around  the  evening  lamp,  he  might  have  kept  those 
sleepy  eyes  unclosed,  and  have  hushed  that  despairing 


Vernon  Grove.  29 

sigh,  for  a  cheerful  spirit  was  his,  loving  childhood  and 
seeking  ever  with  gentle  kindness  to  win  its  love  by  many 
legitimate  arts  of  fascination,  to  which  Vernon,  either 
through  ignorance  or  want  of  interest,  was  a  stranger, 
and  so,  Sybil,  her  face  flushed,  her  position  uncomfort- 
able, and  left  to  herself,  slept  on,  starting  and  sighing  in 
her  dreams  as  they  were  colored  with  the  gloomy  hues 
of  unwelcome  visions. 

But  at  last  the  conversation  came  to  an  end ;  some- 
thing like  a  plan  was  decided  upon  for  the  future,  and 
Mrs.  Gordon,  with  an  apology  to  Vernon  for  Sybil's 
unseasonable  slumbers,  roused  the  unconscious  child, 
and  told  her  it  was  time  for  her  to  retire.  Her  good- 
night was  mechanically  said  in  a  drowsy  tone,  and  Sybil 
was  hurried  off  to  bed, — not,  however,  before  Vernon 
had  expressed  his  sorrow  at  having  so  little  to  entertain 
her,  and  his  wonder  that  she  took  no  interest  in  the 
books  and  pictures  by  which  she  was  surrounded.  Then 
as  they  passed  from  the  room,  Sybil  and  her  grandmo- 
ther, he  sat  down  and  pondered  long  and  deeply,  and 
one  would  have  imagined  from  his  contracted  brow  that 
his  musings  were  not  of  the  most  pleasant  nature. 

Nor  were  they ;  he  came  to  the  conclusion  that  Mrs. 
Gordon  was  not  half  so  interesting  by  his  fireside  as  she 
was  in  her  humble  home,  her  sphere  evidently  being  the 
cottage,  and  that  children  were  the  most  uninteresting 
ci'eatures  in  the  world  ;  then  he  asked  himself  if  he  had 
done  wisely  in  thus  adding  to  his  household  an  aged 
woman  and  an  ignorant  child,  the  one  scarcely  a  fitting 
companion  for  him  with  his  refined,  over-fastidious 
tastes,  the  other  a  useless  appendage.  To  be  sure,  he 
reasoned,  a  generous  impulse  had  led  him  away,  the 


30  Vernon  Grove. 

wish  to  befriend  his  mother's  friend, — but  could  he  not 
have  shown  his  generosity  in  another  Avay  ?  And  then 
what  would  Linwood  think  of  his  chosen  companions  ? 
Still  it  was  too  late  for  reflections  such  as  these — too 
late  to  undo  what  he  had  done,  and  these  not  very 
salutary  self-communings  left  him  in  a  bitter  mood. 

But  a  few  days  altered  the  state  of  things, — at  least 
with  one  of  the  parties  concerned,  and  this  was  Sybil, 
who,  while  her  grandmother  quietly  found  out  her 
sphere  of  duty  and  usefulness,  discovered  pleasures 
inexhaustible  for  herself,  as  varied  as  they  were  new. 
What  cared  she  in  her  life  of  freedom  what  that  grand, 
cold,  sightless  man  thought  of  her  ?  She  was  at  liberty 
to  come  and  go,  and  she  used  that  liberty  to  its  full 
extent, — roaming  where  she  would,  over  hill  and  dale, 
through  brake  and  forest,  and  making  new  friends  at 
every  step  among  the  birds  and  blossoms  of  Vernon 
Grove.  Not  but  there  was  some  method  in  her  life,  for 
her  grandmother  had  taught  her  in  a  measure  to  be 
methodical,  and  she  had  not  forgotten,  nor  did  she 
neglect,  the  reading,  spelling,  and  writing  lessons,  which 
she  knew,  if  faithfully  performed,  were  a  sure  and  solid 
foundation  upon  which  to  build  a  more  ornamental 
structure. 

Her  mornings,  therefore,  were  generally  spent  in  the 
well-stored  library,  into  which  she  ventured  with  caution, 
until  she  found  that  she  was  unmolested ;  and  as  she  had 
been  told  that  her  father's  favorite  occupation  had 
been  study,  close  unvaried  application  to  books,  she 
had  a  romantic  idea  that  his  spirit,  which  her  grand- 
mother had  taught  her  to  believe  was  ever  present 
with  her,  would  smile  upon  her  efforts  to  imitate  him, 


Vernon  Grove.  31 

and  thus  early  were  open  to  her  those  volumes  which 
other  children  would  have  avoided  as  unprofitable  and 
uninteresting. 

To  any  one  occupied  in  noting  the  progress  of 
Sybil's  mind,  it  would  have  been  a  source  of  interest 
and  wonder  to  watch  its  development,  for  in  a  short 
time  she  had  read  through  most  of  the  poets, — and  then 
with  an  intuition  which  was  almost  incredible,  did  we 
not  know  that  there  have  been  parallel  cases,  thinking 
that  something  solid  and  true  was  required  to  balance 
her  mind,  she  had  recourse  to  histories,  and  even  works 
of  a  scientific  character.  At  first,  as  she  daily  took 
refuge  there,  it  was  timidly,  and  as  though  she  was 
an  intruder,  but  after  two  years  had  passed,  she  felt 
strangely  at  home  in  that  sacred  apartment,  into  which 
the  master  of  the  house  seldom  entered,  and  had  appro- 
priated a  nook  there  for  her  own  special  resort,  where 
she  could  close  her  books  at  will  and  gaze  dreamily  out 
upon  the  smiling  fields,  or  farther  on  into  the  deep 
mysterious  woods  with  their  vai-ied  green,  until  the 
study  of  Nature  led  her  back  again  to  the  thoughts  of 
others  in  the  precious  volumes  beside  her. 

Thus  while  Mrs.  Gordon  saw  that  her  charge  was 
busied  in  the  mornings  with  her  so-called  studies,  and 
that  her  afternoons  were  spent  in  wholesome  exercise, 
she  was  quite  assured  that  she  was  making  progress  in 
learning,  and  that  she  need  give  herself  no  trouble  about 
her  physical  education,  for  her  cheek  was  still  flushed 
with  health,  and  her  form  developing  as  gracefully  and 
as  systematically  as  the  bud  matures  into  the  attractive 
beauties  of  the  rose. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

"  Unfolding  slow  their  ivory  fringe, 
The  lilies  lie  upon  the  pond ; 
The  firs  have  caught  the  sunset  tinge 
And  murmur  elfin-like  beyond ; 
I  think  whoever  sought  that  grove, 
To  dream  an  hour  of  love  or  heaven, 
Might,  wrapt  in  some  strange  mystery,  rove 
And  find  this  year  had  grown  to  seven." 

— MlSS  PARKEa 

"  Give  me  music,  sad  and  strong 
Drawn  from  deeper  founts  than  song ; 
More  impassioned,  full,  and  free, 
Than  the  Poet's  numbers  be : 
Music  which  can  master  thee, 
Stern  enchantress,  Memory." 

— BAYARD  TAYLOR. 

ANOTHER  great  resource  of  Sybil  was  to  listen  to  Mr. 
Vernon's  music.  Linwood  had  said  the  truth  when  he 
told  him  that  he  possessed  a  fine  musical  taste,  and  it 
was  one  of  the  few  pleasures  which  he  enjoyed  alone 
and  independent  of  any  one  else,  and  he  now  did  not 
regret  that  he  had  studied  it  in  former  years  as  a  science, 
and  bestowed  upon  it  so  much  time  and  attention,  which 
his  friends  thought  might  be  much  better  employed  in 
a  way  more  congenial  to  their  own  frivolous  pursuits. 

Unconscious  of  listeners  in  the  music-room  at  the  Grove, 
he  would  recall  the  inspired  passages  of  the  finest  com- 
posers, or  with  intense  feeling,  and  with  a  deep  true  voice, 


Vernon  Grove.  33 

sing  the  songs  which,  had  been  his  favorities  in  happier 
hours ;  and  as  each  twilight  saw  him  seated  at  his  piano 
with  his  soul  in  the  melody  or  the  words,  so  that  hour 
beheld  Sybil,  half  reclining  upon  the  threshold  of  the  door 
which  led  out  upon  the  lawn,  with  her  dreamy  eyes  fixed 
upon  the  coming  stars,  wrapt,  silent,  motionless,  with  but 
one  thought  in  her  heart,  the  cadence  of  sweet  sounds. 

To  her  such  music  was  a  new  existence,  or  rather  some 
part  of  her  being  which  she  seemed  to  have  lost  or  found, 
— for  how  unlike  it  was  to  her  wild  untaught  carol,  more 
bird-like  than  human,  how  strange,  and  yet  how  exquisite, 
that  scientific  combination  of  sounds,  and  she  enjoyed 
intuitively  those  intricate  passages  of  tangled  harmony, 
which  can  be  scarcely  understood  except  by  the  favored 
few  whom  genius  has  crowned,  or  by  those  patient 
students  who  make  music  a  part  of  their  education. 

With  what  longing  did  she  anticipate  that  twilight 
hour,  with  what  pleasure  did  she  look  for  that  daily 
privilege.  Motionless  as  a  statue  would  she  sit  until  the 
parting  strains  sounded,  and  then  as  they  died  away 
and  the  instrument  was  closed,  softly  would  she  rise  and 
murmur  inaudible  thanks  for  the  pleasure  which  she  had 
received,  while  Vernon  in  his  blindness  was  all  unconscious 
of  her  presence,  and  then  in  some  woodland  haunt,  believ- 
ing that  she  had  no  listeners  but  the  birds  of  the  air,  she 
repeated  the  melody  that  she  had  learned  from  Vernon 
with  the  same  trills  and  passionate  intonations,  giving 
his  own  emphasis  to  every  word  of  her  child-voice. 

His  favorite  haunt  in  the  woods  was  a  secluded  and 
natural  grove,  and  it  wras  from  this  spot  that  the  name 
of  his  country-seat,  Vernon  Grove,  had  been  derived. 
It  was,  indeed,  in 

2* 


34  Vernon  Grove. 

"  The  very  inmost  heart 

Of  an  old  wood,  where  the  green  shadows  closed 
Into  a  rich,  clear,  summer  darkness  round, 
A  luxury  of  gloom." 

Even  in  the  brightest  sunlight  there  would  be  shade 
and  retirement,  and  the  whispers  of  the  wind  in  the  top- 
most branches,  that  mysterious  voice  of  the  trees,  brought 
to  his  spirit,  if  not  peace,  something  akin  to  it,  and  like  a 
cradled  child  listening  to  a  beloved  voice,  he  was  calmed 
beneath  the  tranquillizing  influence.  To  this  spot  he 
was  often  led  by  his  attendant,  who  understood  enough 
of  Vernon's  habits  to  know  that  he  desired  to  be  left 
there  alone. 

It  was  at  such  a  time  as  this,  that  Sybil  one  day  uncon- 
sciously intruded  upon  his  solitude. 

The  tempter,  who  had  led  her  to  the  grove,  was  a 
bird  whose  flight  she  was  pursuing  playfully,  and  she 
was  seduced  into  those  quiet  precincts  before  she  was 
aware  of  it,  by  its  hopping  from  branch  to  branch,  and 
gracefully  arching  its  little  neck  as  the  distance  increased 
between  them,  as  if  it  enjoyed  and  understood  the  pursuit 
but  felt  itself  safe  in  its  liberty. 

Just  at  the  entrance  of  the  grove,  the  pretty  creature 
perched  itself  upon  a  tall  bending  twig  that  rocked  to 
and  fro  even  with  its  slight  weight,  and  then  with  a  sort 
of  mocking  triumph,  as  if  it  were  sure  that  Sybil  could 
not  reach  it  there,  sent  forth  such  a  gush  of  melody,  such 
a  thrilling  song,  that  she  stood  entranced  while  she 
listened. 

When  the  song  was  ended,  Sybil's  joy  found  utterance 
in  the  ringing  laugh  of  a  careless  hnppy  girl. 

"Beautiful  creature!"  she  exclaimed,  "was  that  song 


Vernon  Grove.  35 

meant  for  me — for  me  alone  ?  It  must  have  been  ;  and 
what  can  I  do  for  you  in  return,  as  you  sit  up  there  on 
your  regal  throne?  Shall  I  call  you  the  King  of  the 
Wildwood,  and  will  an  answering  song  be  tribute  fit  for 
a  subject  to  her  sovereign  ?" 

The  bird  carolled  a  note  as  if  in  return  to  her  question, 
— a  soft,  gentle,  tremulous  note ;  and  then  her  voice 
rose  in  the  forest  in  one  of  Vernon's  favorite  songs,  at 
first  faint  and  trembling  as  though  "  a  tear  were  in  it," 
then  thrilling  high  in  clear  bell-like  notes ;  and  at  last 
gushing  out  in  an  alto  so  rich  and  peculiar,  so  tender 
and  impassioned,  that  Vernon  forgot  his  wonder  in  his 
pleasure,  and  simply  enjoyed  with  his  whole  being. 

The  intensity  of  the  expression  was  derived  from  him, 
but  the  trills  and  variations  and  the  thousand  nameless 
graces,  Sybil's  alone. 

"It  seemed  a  sea-born  music,  floating 

The  blue  waves  o'er, 
Like  that  which  charms  the  mermaids,  boating 

By  moonlit  shore, 
In  every  dying  fall  denoting 

The  strains  in  store." 

As  her  song  was  finished,  from  the  interior  of  the 
grove  she  heard  a  voice  calling  her  name,  and  frightened 
and  half  abashed  she  entered  with  blushing  cheeks,  as 
though  she  had  been  guilty  of  a  crime.  She  knew  that 
it  was  Mr.  Vernon's  voice,  and  like  a  culprit  she  awaited 
what  he  had  to  say. 

"  Sybil,"  said  he  again,  in  a  voice  which  had  no  dis- 
pleasure in  it,  "  come  nearer ;  I  have  been  listening  to 
your  song ;  tell  me  how  and  where  you  learned  it,  and 


36  Vernon  Grove. 

who  taught  you  to  give  such  expression  to  your  words  ? 
Has  some  prima  donna  privately  given  you  lessons  that 
you  thus  seem  to  have  imbibed  the  very  spirit  of  Italian 
song  ?" 

"  No,  never,"  she  said  quite  solemnly  to  his  playful 
question.  "  I  would  tell  you,  but  I  am  afraid  that  you 
might  be  angry." 

"Not  more  than  the  bird  to  whom  you  sang  it," 
was  the  reply,  "  but  why  do  you  think  that  I  might  be 
angry  ?" 

Sybil  was  candor  itself,  not  so  much  from  principle,  for 
that  had  not  yet  been  developed,  but  simply  because 
deceit  was  not  in  her  nature. 

"  I  do  not  know  exactly  why,"  she  answered,  "  but 
that  yon  frown  at  times  as  though  something  vexed  you, 
and  are  so  grand  and  solemn,  that  I  thought  you  would 
frown  upon  me  if  you  knew  " Sybil  stopped. 

"  If  I  knew  what,  child  ?" 

"  If  you  knew,"  she  said  softly,  and  watching  every 
line  in  his  face,  "  that  every  evening  when  you  sing  and 
think  that  you  are  alone,  I  sit  on  the  door-sill  watching 
the  coming  stars  and  listening  to  you,  and  it  seems  such 
a  calm  happy  close  to  a  busy  day,  that  I  am  always 
sorry  when  the  music  stops." 

Vernon  smiled  rather  than  frowned,  and  this  gave 
Sybil  encouragement  to  go  on. 

"And  then,"  she  continued,  "I  try  to  remember  what 
I  have  heard,  and  sometimes  sing  as  you  heard  me  just 
now,  out  here  in  the  woods,  but  only  for  myself." 

"And  the  birds,"  said  Vernon,  smiling  still  more 
kindly.  Then  he  assured  her  that  it  would  always  give 
him  pleasure  to  have  her  for  a  listener ;  and  wishing  to 


Vernon  Grove.  37 

prolong  the  conversation,  because  he  was  beginning  to 
feel  an  interest  in  his  young  companion,  he  asked  her  if 
she  loved  music,  and  if  it  would  give  her  pleasure  to  hear 
those  wonderfully  gifted  artists  who  have  moved  a  whole 
world  to  admiration. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  she  answered  quickly,  "  the  poets  love  it, 
and  so  do  I." 

"  And  are  you  a  poet  as  well  as  a  songstress,  Erato  as 
well  as  Euterpe  ?" 

"  Oh !  no,  no,  not  a  poet,"  said  she,  blushing,  "  but 
they  all  write  so  much  and  so  feelingly  about  music,  that 
it  was  they  who  first  taught  me  to  love  it,  and  then  lis- 
tening to  you  made  me  realize  what  a  glorious  art  it  was." 

"  And  pray,  what  do  you  know  about  the  poets  ?" 
he  asked  with  growing  curiosity,  "  are  you  a  spirit  or  a 
fairy  that  you  read  their  brains,  and  fashion  their  thoughts 
with  words  before  they  give  them  a  form  themselves  ? 
Do  you  meet  them  at  midnight  under  the  stars,  and  do 
they  sing  for  you  their  unpublished  songs  ?" 

"  No,  sir,"  she  answered,  half  puzzled  at  his  bantering 
tone,  and  half  fearful  that  the  dreaded  frown  would  fol- 
low the  words,  "  those  in  the  library,  I  mean  ;  grand- 
mother said  that  I  might  go  there  if  I  were  careful  with 
the  books,  and  that  you  would  not  object,  and,  oh,  Mr. 
Vernon,  if  you  could  only  " 

"  Only  what,  Sybil,  do  not  fear  to  offend  me,  I  am  not 
the  monster  you  imagine  me,  eating  little  boys  and  girls 
like  an  ogre,  or  killing  them  with  a  look ;  teU  me  what 
yo«  were  going  to  say  ?" 

"  This  was  all,"  she  answered  in  a  voice  whose  tone 
now  was  softened  by  pity,  "  if  you  could  only  see  to 
read  what  I  read  there." 


38  Vernon  Grove. 

Vernon  sighed ;  it  needed  not  little  Sybil's  confirma- 
tion to  tell  him  how  much  he  lost  by  his  blindness. 

"  But  I  must  go  now,"  she  said,  turning  away  as  she 
saw  the  sudden  quivering  of  his  lip,  "  for  grandmother 
must  be  expecting  me,"  and  so  independent  were  they 
of  each  other  that  she  was  hurrying  off  without  another 
thought  of  his  solitude  and  blindness. 

"  Is  it  so  late,  then  ?"  he  asked,  "  your  song  has 
shortened,  wonderfully,  my  afternoon  musings." 

"  I  am  very  sorry,"  she  said  frankly,  as  though  he 
implied  that  she  had  done  something  wrong,  "  can  I  call 
John  for  you  ?  It  is  indeed  getting  late,  for  yonder  is  my 
star,  my  summer  timepiece  I  cull  it,  looking  down  upon 
the  grove,  and  see,  now  a  light  cloud  is  passing  over  it, 
not  quite  hiding  its  beauty,  and  now  it  shines  out  again 
in  a  solemn  steady  light." 

Sybil  was  talking  to  herself,  scarcely  to  her  blind  com- 
panion. Alas !  there  was  no  star  for  him,  no  cloud  ex- 
cept that  over  his  blinded  eyes,  nor  was  there  for  him 
that  pretty  picture  of  the  child,  pointing  with  upraised 
finger  to  the  heavens,  yet  it  gladdened  him  to  think 
that  her  unstudied  words  told  of  a  love  of  the  beautiful 
in  nature,  and  it  drew  him  nearer  to  his  newly  found 
friend. 

"  We  can  go  together,  can  we  not,  Sybil  ?"  he  asked. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  she  answered  gladly,  and  was  tripping  off 
before  him  with  a  child's  thoughtlessness,  but  he  called 
her  back,  and  told  her  that  she  had  forgotten  that  he 
required  a  guide,  and  hand  in  hand  they  wended  their 
way  homeward  through  the  fragrant  woods,  conversing 
with  the  freedom  of  old  acquaintances. 

"  After  all,  Sybil,"  he  said,  "  you  are  not  such  a  child 


Vernon  Grove.  39 

as  I  thought ;  you  are  almost  as  tall  as  my  shoulder, 
though  you  must  still  be  very  young." 

"  I  am  just  thirteen,"  she  answered,  "but  I  am  so 
ignorant,  so  very  ignorant,  of  what  my  grandmother 
tells  me  every  girl  of  my  age  should  be  acquainted  with, 
geography,  grammer,  and  arithmetic,  that  I  suppose 
that  is  the  reason  why  you  thought  I  was  a  very  little 
child.  As  I  know  so  little  of  what  I  ought  to  under- 
stand well,  she  tries  hard  to  instruct  me,  but  she  is  get- 
ting old  and  feeble  now,  and  cannot  teach  me  much." 

Vernon  mused  awhile ;  he  felt  that  something  was  to 
be  done  ;  he  felt  that  he  had  neglected  her  during  those 
past  two  years.  That  she  had  indeed  done  what  she 
could  for  herself,  he  doubted  not,  but  what  a  wild  un- 
tutored mind  was  the  result ;  and  then  her  wondrous 
voice,  and  her  love  of  the  poets,  what  genius  might  not 
they  portend,  and  how  much  a  systematic  education 
might  achieve  for  her  ! 

He  was  not  a  man  to  argue,  and  think,  and  ponder 
upon  any  fancy  that  he  might  have ;  his  resolution  was 
taken  in  a  moment,  and  he  told  her  of  it. 

"  Just  thirteen,  Sybil?"  he  said,  "then  you  must  be 
as  one  of  your  poets  has  said — 

1  As  a  rose  at  fairest, 
Neither  a  bud  nor  blown.' 

And  it  is  full  time  for  you  to  have  masters  to  instruct 
you,  and  you  shall  have*  them,  if  you  desire  it,  and  you 
shall  take  lessons  upon  what  instruments,  and  learn  what 
languages  you  choose.  Would  you  like  to  be  brilliant 
and  accomplished  ?" 

If  Richard  could  not  see  her,  he  knew  by  the  fervent 


40  Vernon  Grove. 

clasping  of  her  hands,  and  her  heart-felt  exclamation  of 
delight,  that  she  appreciated  fully  his  kind  offer. 

"  And  are  you  to  do  all  this  for  me,  and  I  nothing  for 
you  ?"  she  asked  timidly,  after  a  pause. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  he  answered,  with  a  laugh  as  careless  as 
in  other  days,  "  you  must  read  to  me  from  your  friends, 
the  poets  ;  you  must  write  for  me,  sing  for  me,  and  lead 
me  to  the  woodlands  sometimes;  you  will  have  work 
enough  to  do,  Sybil." 

"  But  not  too  much,  I  know,"  said  Sybil,  who  was  de- 
lighted at  the  idea  of  being  of  importance  to  any  one. 

Then  they  were  silent,  each  busily  musing  upon  the 
new  page  of  life  that  they  had  turned,  and  nought  was 
heard  save  the  twittering  note  of  a  bird  seeking  its 
nightly  shelter,  or  their  foot-falls  on  the  dead  leaves,  as 
they  passed  homewards  through  the  woods.  The  setting 
sun  crimsoned  the  western  sky,  and  the  early  stars 
peeped  in  and  out  in  the  twilight,  but  tha»man  and  the 
child  walked  on  unconscious,  thinking  only  of  the  star- 
light and  the  sunlight  that  had  so  strangely  and  sud- 
denly shone  upon  their  hearts. 

And  soon  they  reached  their  home,  from  which  they 
had  departed  almost  strangers ;  but  after  she  had  led 
him  to  his  accustomed  seat,  and  again  thanked  him  for 
his  interest  in  her,  after  he  had  told  her  smilingly  to  re- 
member that  the  obligation  was  to  be  mutual,  they  part- 
ed, fast  friends. 

A  day,  an  hour,  a  minute,  fjijfa  make  the  joy  or  sor- 
row of  a  life  ;  we  can  even  date  back  from  a  look,  a  sin- 
gle glance  of  the  eye,  to  the  misery  of  years,  or  a  clasp 
of  the  hand  has  been  the  earnest  of  an  existence  of  un- 
alloyed happiness.  And  that  day  at  the  grove  necessa- 


Vernon  Grove.  ^n 

rily  made  the  one  or  the  other,  the  joy  or  the  sorrow  of 
Sybil's  life.  But  who  can  foretell  the  future  of  happy 
joyous  girlhood?  We  must  accompany  her  step  by 
step  to  the  end. 

Sybil,  I  would  have  thy  frank  brow  unclouded  ever, 
thy  step  as  bounding,  thine  eye  as  tearless  as  now.  But 
can  it  be,  where  change  is  written  on  earth's  fairest 
scenes?  The  sunny  morning  merges  into  the  stormy 
night,  the  blooming  field  of  summer  becomes  the  wintry 
moor,  and  thou  must  change,  but  how,  and  why  ? 

Happy  Sybil !  With  a  glad  step  she  hastened  to  tell 
her  grandmother  of  her  good  fortune  and  to  talk  of  her 
future  accomplishments.  She  bewildered  the  simple 
old  lady  with  her  eloquence,  and  overwhelmed  her  with 
her  recapitulation  of  what  she  would  do  and  be.  First 
she  meant  to  learn  about  the  stars,  know  their  names, 
and  trace  the  constellations  in  their  rising  and  setting ; 
she  would  seek  the  wToods  for  botanical  specimens,  and 
class  each  flower  and  shrub  with  minutest  care ;  she 
would  study  geology,  and  the  formation  of  the  earth 
would  be  as  familiar  to  her  as  the  formation  of  a  simple 
bird's  nest,  while  French,  German,  Italian,  and  music, 
would  be  her  daily  friends. 

Nothing  seemed  too  difficult  for  Sybil's  excited  ima- 
gination, and  if  ever  an  air  castle  was  built,  itwa  s  then 
and  there  by  the  breathless  child,  as  she  recapitulated 
her  future  triumphs  in  learning  to  her  grandmother, 
who  listened  almost  sadly,  for  those  whom  she  had 
loved  and  lost  had  been  what  Sybil  called  accomplished, 
and  had  passed  silently  away  from  her  sight. 

She  did  not,  however,  chill  the  young  enthusiast's 
hopes,  but  kissing  her  warmly,  in  her  own  simple  way 


42  Vernon  Grove. 

told  her  that  she  might  live  to  know  many  more  things 
than  her  grandmother  did,  but  that  she  must  never  for- 
get that  it  was  she  who  first  taught  her  the  names  of 
those  very  characters  which  were  the  foundation  of  all 
book  knowledge.  Then  looking  down  into  the  yov*ig 
face  which  was  turned  upwards  to  hers,  she  continued 
solemnly : 

"  And  Sybil,  dear,  one  thing  more  I  must  add  ;  re- 
member, among  many  books  there  is  still  but  one — one 
which  came  from  heaven — while  all  the  rest  are  con- 
ceived and  fashioned  by  men ;  you  will  never  forget  in 
the  new  languages,  in  the  brilliant  thoughts,  in  the  bewil- 
dering romances  which  will  be  opened  to  you,  the  Bible, 
my  child?  Promise  me  that." 

"  Never,  oh,  never,"  was  the  answer. 

Wlien  Sybil  promised  she  kept  her  word. 


CHAPTER  V. 

"  Imagine,  then,  some  pupil  nymph  consigned 
To  you,  the  guardian  of  her  opening  mind, 
In  all  the  bloom  and  sweetness  of  eleven, 
Health,  spirits,  grace,  intelligence,  and  heaven ; 
While  still  from  each  exuberant  motion  darts 
A  winning  multitude  of  artless  arts. 
Withal  such  softness  to  such  smartness  joined, 
So  pure  a  heart  to  such  a  knowing  mind, 
So  very  docile  in  her  wildest  mood, 
Bad  by  mistake,  and  without  effort  good, 
So  humbly  thankful  when  you  please  to  praise, 
So  broken-hearted  when  your  frown  dismays, 
So  circumspect,  so  fearful  to  offend, 
And  at  your  look  so  eager  to  attend, 
With  memory  strong,  and  with  perception  bright, 
Her  words,  her  deeds,  so  uniformly  right, 
That  scarce  one  foible  disconcerts  your  aims, 
And  care  and  trouble — never  name  their  names ! 
Yes,  I  forget  you  have  one  anxious  care, 
You  have  one  ceaseless  burden  of  your  prayer : 
It  is, — great  God,  assist  me  to  be  just 
To  this  dear  charge  committed  to  my  trust." 

— DR.  OILMAN'S  Contributions  to  Literature. 

RICHARD  VERNON  faithfully  put  all  his  plans  for  Sybil's 
education  into  execution.  He  sent  to  a  neighboring 
town  for  masters,  who  gave  daily  lessons  to  his  young 
charge,  and  it  must  be  confessed  that  he  felt  less 
absorbed  in  his  own  immediate  troubles  and  happier 


44  Vernon  Grove. 

than  he  had  been  for  years,  for  now  his  life  had  added 
to  it  a  new  object  of  interest,  and  he  gave  himself  up  to 
the  work  before  him  with  an  energy  which  surprised 
even  himself. 

Training  up  a  child  to  womanhood ! 

Alas,  how  unfit  was  he  for  the  responsibility  he  had 
assumed.  It  was  an  easy  thing  to  guide  her  mind  in 
acquiring  knowledge,  to  teach  her  the  varied  expres- 
sions in  music,  or  to  give  the  right  accent  to  a  foreign 
tongue,  but  the  heart,  how  could  he  think  as  he  did,  of 
moulding  that?  In  his  isolated  position  he  had  lost 
sight  of  the  fact  of  his  unfitness  for  such  an  office. 
None  dared  to  tell  him  of  his  faults,  he  had  not  even 
Linwood  to  remonstrate  when  he  became  overbearing, 
but  still  the  faults  were  there.  Rebellious,  unreconciled 
to  the  great  sorrow  of  his  life,  proud,  obstinate  even  to 
his  own  hurt,  subject  to  fits  of  despondency  and  worse 
paroxysms  of  uncontrollable  anger,  which  would  obey 
no  law,  with  no  religious  sense  to  temper  a  disposition 
not  naturally  gentle,  how  could  he,  how  could  he  say  as 
he  did  to  himself,  "I  will  be  the  guardian  to  this 
child  ?" 

The  outward  graces  of  Sybil  he  might,  indeed,  culti- 
vate, but  never  could  he  lift  the  veil  which  covered  her 
heart  and  say  with  unfaltering  tongue,  "I  am  worthy  to 
be  the  keeper  of  the  treasure  there." 

As  Sybil's  studies  confined  her  to  the  house  more  than 
formerly,  she  learned  something  of  the  impulsive  charac- 
ter of  Vernon,  although  she  had  never  seen  his  temper 
in  its  full  deformity.  Gratitude  for  the  generous  part 
he  had  acted,  pity  for  his  blindness  and  the  knowledge 
of  the  interest  which  he  took  in  her  progress,  ah1  united 


Vernon  Grove.  4.5 

in  fostering  a  feeling  of  affection  for  him  and  an  intense 
interest  in  his  character,  but  it  was  not  long  before  she 
beheld  it  in  its  darkest  shade,  beheld  that  stubborn  will 
inflexible  to  the  last,  that  cruel  nature  seemingly  delight- 
ing in  its  power  to  wound. 

A  boy,  the  child  of  a  poor,  but  pious  neighbor,  had 
been  convicted  of  stealing  fruit  from  Vernon's  orchard, 
and  he  ordered  the  culprit  to  be  severely  punished. 

In  vain  the  boy,  who  was  a  fine  manly  youth,  con- 
fessed his  crime  and  besought  Vernon's  forgiveness, 
promising  on  his  knees  repentance  ;  Vernon  forgave  not. 
The  boy  reiterated  in  broken  sobs  that  he  knew  his  fault 
was  a  flagrant  one  and  deserved  punishment,  represent- 
ing to  him  whom  he  had  offended,  the  distress  of  his 
mother  when  the  account  of  his  conduct  and  penalty 
should  be  heard  by  her,  that  mother  who  had  taught 
him  so  differently ;  he  dwelt  on  the  grief  of  his  sisters, 
who  had  ever  been  proud  of  his  manliness  and  honesty, 
but  fruitlessly  did  the  poor  boy  plead.  In  Vernon's 
mind  there  seemed  to  be  no  recognition  of  the  divine 
precept  of  acting  toward  others  as  he  would  have  others 
act  towards  him,  and  his  heart  seemed  hardened  against 
mercy. 

When  Sybil,  who  was  a  witness  of  the  scene,  beheld 
that  the  boy's  agonized  pleading  fell  unregarded  upon 
his  ears,  she  took  up  the  offender's  cause  herself,  and 
besought  him  in  pitying  tones  for  a  reprieve.  Sybil, 
whose  voice  had  scarcely  dared  raise  itself  hitherto  in 
that  grand  homestead,  was  now  almost  eloquent  in 
another's  behalf.  She  tirged  Vernon  to  give  him  one 
more  trial,  she  appealed  in  every  possible  way  to  his  cle- 
mency, even  describing  the  culprit's  whole  appearance, 


46  Vernon  Grove. 

his  white  innocent  brow  and  the  clustering  curls  that 
lay  above  it,  his  intelligent  eyes,  and  the  firm,  compres- 
sed lips  which  bespoke  resolve  and  character. 

"  Can  these,"  she  pleaded  with  tearful  eyes,  "  belong 
to  a  thief,  a  hardened  determined  thief?  Oh,  no,  Mr. 
Vernon,  no  ;  it  was  his  first  fault,  and  may  never  again 
be  repeated,  will  never  again  be  repeated,  only  forgive 
him  and  let  him  go." 

She  might  as  well  have  spoken  to  the  cold  midnight 
stars  and  have  asked  their  sympathy,  or  have  tried  to 
stay  the  onward  rushing  wind.  Her  interference,  her 
passionate  appeal  for  mercy  only  exasperated  Vernon 
the  more,  and  with  a  voice  thick  with  passion,  he 
angrily  repeated  his  order  for  the  boy  to  be  punished, 
and  the  lad,  with  a  crushed  and  broken  spirit,  was  led 
out  to  his  disgrace. 

Sybil  turned  away  from  the  scene  with  a  shudder; 
interest  in  Vernon  had  been  followed  by  fear;  she 
looked  back  once  ere  she  departed,  and  drew  a  picture 
mentally  of  his  outward  form  and  inner  nature — the  one 
brave  and  beautiful,  with  the  nobility  of  manliness  about 
it,  the  other  so  black  and  hideous.  Life  grew  suddenly 
dark  to  her,  she  could  not  be  quite  happy  in  such  com- 
panionship, it  would  seem  to  her  like  holding  the  hand 
of  a  demon  who  was  dwelling  in  an  angelic  form. 
Slowly  she  retired  to  her  chamber  to  weep  for  the  plead- 
ing suifering  boy,  and  yet  more  bitter  tears  were  given 
to  the  man  who  was  a  stranger  to  forgiveness.  Then 
she  knelt  and  prayed  for  both,  and  felt  comforted  that 
at  the  higher  Mercy-Seat  forgiveness  would  be  found  for 
the  penitent. 

Then  the  morrow  came  and  passed,  and  other  mor- 


Vernon  Grove.  47 

rows  went  calmly  by,  and  as  nothing  occurred  in  all 
those  happy  days  of  study  to  ruffle  that  seemingly  gen- 
tle nature  of  Vernon,  Sybil  remembered  what  had 
passed  only  as  a  frightful  dream,  or  if  it  ever  did  come 
to  her  as  a  reality,  she  had  but  to  look  at  his  composed 
mien  and  placid  face  to  assure  herself  that  such  an  event 
could  not,  would  not  occur  again.  Such  a  fiendish  state 
of  mind  might  overtake  a  man  once. 

So  likewise  say  they,  who  dwelling  at  the  foot  of  a 
volcano,  have  seen  the  melted  lava  rush  once  in  destruc- 
tive torrents  down  the  mountain's  side— and  yet  they 
have  lived  to  see  it  again. 

As  might  have  been  expected  from  Sybil's  quick  intel- 
ligence, she  improved  daily  in  all  that  she  undertook. 
Vernon  personally  attended  to  her  English  studies,  as 
far  as  he  was  able  ;  directing  her  tasks,  giving  her  sub- 
jects for  compositions,  and  teaching  her,  almost  selfishly, 
inasmuch  as  it  concerned  him  so  nearly,  to  read  well. 
As  for  music  it  was  almost  a  plaything  for  her,  and  soon 
the  voices  of  the  blind  man  and  his  young  charge 
mingled  in  song,  and  no  sweeter  melody  could  be 
imagined  than  the  united  harmony. 

Mrs.  Gordon,  when  she  saw  Sybil's  progress,  forgot 
her  terror  of  learning  in  her  delight  at  her  grandchild's 
improvement,  and  as  her  cheek  still  glowed  with  health, 
and  her  form  lost  none  of  its  roundness,  she  looked  smi- 
lingly on  when  she  was  appealed  to  for  sympathy  or 
counsel,  and  left  all  unreservedly  to  Vernon's  judgment. 
She  was  not  wrong  apparently  in  so  doing,  for  he  was 
ever  watchful  of  his  charge  and  judicious  in  his  require- 
ments, dividing  the  hours  so  faithfully  between  study 
and  recreation,  that  it  left  her  no  cause  for  complaint. 


48  Vernon  Grove. 

Mrs.  Gordon  saw,  too,  with  pleasure,  that  Mr.  Ver- 
non's  manner  had  changed  towards  Sybil,  and  although 
he  still  regarded  her  as  a  child,  he  looked  upon  her  as  a 
companion,  and  though  she  knew  his  faults  of  character 
and  condemned  them,  she  trusted  that  Sybil's  gentleness 
would  exercise  a  salutary  and  refining  influence  over 
him,  while  she  would  be  the  gainer,  too,  by  the 
daily  intercourse  with  a  mind  so  cultivated  as  his,  and  in 
listening  to  his  conversation  which  was  at  once  choice 
and  instructive.  Perhaps  the  thought  which  reconciled 
her  most  to  the  existing  state  of  things,  was,  that  Sybil 
would  find  a  friend  in  Vernon  after  the  grave  had  closed 
over  her,  as  she  felt  before  many  years  must  be  the 
case. 

There  was,  at  the  time  of  which  we  are  speaking,  a 
great  contrast  in  their  evenings  to  those  of  the  past — 
once  Sybil  closed  her  young  eyes  in  sleep,  but  now  while 
she  read  to  Vernon  in  a  soft  voice,  which  was  modulated 
in  obedience  to  his  fastidious  ear,  Mrs.  Gordon's  knitting 
fell  from  her  fingers,  and  lulled  by  Sybil's  tone,  she,  in 
her  turn,  wandered  in  the  land  of  dreams. 

"  To-morrow  you  are  to  have  a  holiday,"  said  Vernon 
one  evening  to  Sybil,  "  Donalzi  has  asked  me  for  the  day 
to  attend  a  religious  ceremony.  Let  us  make  it  a  gala 
day,  Sybil." 

He  paused,  but  Sybil  was  silent,  while  on  his  too  ex- 
pressive face  a  shade  of  disappointment  displayed  itself. 

"  You  are  not  half  so  delighted  as  I  expected  you  to 
be,"  he  continued,  "  only  think  of  a  day  without  any 
tasks  ;  why  at  your  age  my  heart  would  have  throbbed 
wildly  at  the  idea." 

"  But  you  know,  Mr.  Vernon,"  said  Sybil,  a  little  re- 


Vernon  Grove.  49 

proachfully,  "  that  I  shall  not  be  as  free  as  you  say,  al- 
though I  must  confess  that  a  real  holiday  would  be  a  great 
pleasure  to  me.  In  the  first  place,  there  is  that  grand 
overture  to  practise,  then  that  mystic  German  tale  to 
translate,  and  besides,  I  have  my  composition  to  read 
to  you,  and  then" — but  Vernon  interrupted  her  in  any 
further  enumeration  of  her  stupendous  duties. 

"  All  these,  except  the  composition,  must  be  for  ano- 
ther day,  dear  Sybil,"  he  said,  "  for  I  have  disposed  of 
your  time  myself  for  to-morrow  in  a  way  which  I  trust 
will  be  acceptable  to  you.  I  wish  you  to  go  on  an  ex- 
cursion with  me,  a  real  old-fashioned  pic-nic,  when  we 
shall  spend  the  day  near  a  ruined  church  some  miles 
distant.  It  is  so  picturesque  in  its  decay  that  I  am  told  it 
is  well  worth  the  little  journey ;  you  must  be  as  thought- 
ful as  Red  Riding  Hood,  and  take  a  basket  of  good  things 
with  you ;  I  will  order  out  the  large  coach,  so  as  to  be 
as  comfortable  as  possible,  and  John  shall  be  our  coach- 
man and  attendant." 

His  voice  was  so  kind,  his  manner  so  encouraging,  that 
Sybil,  forgetting  for  a  moment  how  cold  and  harsh  he 
could  be,  bounded  to  his  side,  and  clasping  one  of  his 
hands  in  her  own,  told  him  how  she  thanked  him,  and 
what  pleasure  the  drive  would  give  her,  not  forgetting 
the  dinner  in  the  woods,  where  she  fancied  herself 
spreading  a  rural  table  and  presiding  over  it ;  then  sud- 
denly remembering  who  and  what  he  was,  to  whom  she 
was  unfolding  every  nook  and  corner  of  her  young  heart, 
and  how  perhaps  he  was  inwardly  ridiculing  her  for  her 
burst  of  childish  feeling,  she  blushed  scarlet,  and  drew 
back  covered  with  confusion. 

"  Give  me  your  hand  again,"  he  said  kindly,  as  he  felt 
3 


50  Vernon  Grove. 

by  her  abrupt  pause  something  of  the  truth ;  then  his 
voice  took  almost  a  tone  of  solemn  tenderness  as  he 
spoke  :  "  It  is  a  soft  hand,  a  true,  good  hand,  and  belongs 
to  a  true  good  heart ;  my  sister  has  just  such  a  hand, 
but  the  world  has  spoiled  her  heart,  has  taken  it  piece 
by  piece  for  its  own,  and  a  hand  without  a  heart's  truth 
in  it  is  meaningless ;  she  has  forgotten  her  brother,  quite 
forgotten  him,  I  fear.  Until  the  world  has  spoiled  your 
heart,  will  you  be  my  sister,  little  Sybil  ?" 

He  bent  forward  earnestly,  with  that  strong  yearning 
for  aifection  in  his  breast,  as  if  even  with  his  blind  eyes 
he  might  read  her  face. 

Sybil  was  silent,  she  knew  not  what  to  answer ;  she 
glanced  at  his  strong,  powerful  frame ;  his  broad,  intel- 
ligent brow ;  and  then  down,  as  it  were,  upon  her  own 
diminutive  self,  standing  by  his  side ;  then  she  hastily 
compared  their  mental  difference,  where  the  one  knew 
so  much,  the  other  so  little ;  and  lastly,  she  remembered 
his  stern  unbending  will  as  opposed  to  hers,  and  she  was 
silent  still. 

"  Then  you  will  not  promise,"  said  Vernon,  moodily, 
"  it  is  so  hard  a  thing  to  do  and  be  ?  Do  you  forget, 
Sybil,  that  years  ago,  by  the  cottage  porch,  you  gave  me 
a  whole  garland  which  you  had  woven  with  infinite  care, 
will  you  refuse  me  now  the  simple  flower  of  sisterly  af- 
fection ?" 

We  have  said  that  Sybil's  was  a  frank  nature ;  not  a 
shadow  of  deception  appeared  in  her  earnest  eyes,  but 
there  was  trouble  in  their  depth^as  she  glanced  at  Ver- 
non and  tried  to  frame  a  reply  which  would  not  wound 
him.  Xo  slight  excuse  would  satisfy  her,  no  glossing 
over  of  the  truth;  she  could  never  have  forgiven  herself 


Vernon  Grove.  51 

for  trifling  with  another,  and  even  her  own  failings  were 
regarded  by  her  with  impartial  judgment. 
Her  motto  was, 

"  To  thine  own  self  be  true, 
And  it  must  follow  as  the  night  the  day, 
Thou,  can'st  not  theii  be  false  to  any  man." 

Then  after  a  moment's  thought  she  spoke  out  slowly  and 
distinctly,  and  Vernon  found  himself  listening  with 
strange  eagerness  to  her  words. 

"  No,  Mr.  Vernon,  I  cannot  be  what  you  require,  for 
a  sister  must  be  in  a  measure,  as  I  understand  it,  a  friend, 
an  adviser  whom  a  brother  respects;  a  sister's  wishes 
and  inclinations  should  be  consulted,  and  I  have  no  right 
to  these  requirements  at  your  hands  ;  and  then  I  am  too 
young,  too  thoughtless,  to  be  anything  of  a  guide  to  one 
so  experienced,  so  worldly-wise  as  you  are ;  your  nature 
is  too  unyielding  arid  imperious  to  be  guided  by  me." 

"  And  suppose  that  I  should  subscribe  to  these  all-im- 
portant requirements,"  he  asked,  "  what  then  ?" 

"  You  never  could"  was  the  serious  answer. 

"  Tell  me  why,  Sybil  ?"  he  said,  with  growing  interest 
and  curiosity. 

"Because,  to  engage  to  be  a  sister  to  any  one  is  no 
light  thing,"  she  answered,  sitting  down  as  to  an  impor- 
tant consultation;  "if  I  had  a  sister  she  should  tell  me 
all  my  faults,  and  reprove  me  when  she  thought  needful ; 
we  would  pray  together,  weep  and  smile  together ;  her 
sorrows  should  be  mine,  /md  mine  hers ;  in  fine,  we  would 
be  all  in  all  to  each  other ;  now,  you  know  that  we,  you 
and  I,  could  never  be  this." 

"  And  why  ?"  was  the  pertinacious  question. 


52  Vernon  Grove. 

"Oh,  because,"  she  still  truthfully  answered,  "  you  are 
a  great  deal  older  than  I  am,  and  are  too  grand,  and  tall, 
and  cold,  for  such  intimate  companionship.  It  seems  to 
me  if  I  had  a  brother,  we  would  be  flying  together  over 
the  lawn  and  roaming  in  the  fields  for  flowers,  and  these 
you  could  not  do ;  then  he  would  always  smile  sweetly 
on  me,  but  your  smile  has  something  scornful  in  it  at 
times,  truly  a  cruel  smile ;  and  you  walk  upon  the  earth, 
not  as  if  you  could  not  see  God's  beautiful  world,  but  as 
proudly  as  if  it  were  made  for  you,  and  you  had  a  right 
to  every  inch  of  it.  Then  there  is  another  reason,  and 
it  is  this,  that  I  am  afraid  of  you,  or  have  been  so  un- 
til to-day,  and  perfect  love,  the  love  of  a  brother  and 
sister,  casteth  out  fear." 

Sybil  stopped  for  breath. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Vemon,  half  amused,  half  angry, 
with  her  portrait  of  him ;  "  I  really  did  not  know  until 
this  moment  how  formidable  I  was.  Is  there  no  oasis  in 
the  desert,  no  redeeming  point  that  you  could  mention, 
to  take  the  sting  from  your  utter  condemnation  of  my- 
self, to  soothe  my  self-love  ?" 

"  Oh  yes,"  answered  Sybil,  truth  still  her  guiding  star, 
"  with  all  this  there  is  a  nobleness  about  you  that  seems 
to  belong  to  no  other ;  a  word  of  praise  from  you  is 
worth  more  than  a  hundred  from  my  teachers,  and  then 
though  your  lips  are  often 

'Curved  like  an  archer's  bow  to  let  the  bitter  arrows  out,' 

their  smile,  sometimes,  as  if  in  contrast  to  that  cruel  sar- 
castic smile  of  yours,  is  like  sunshine.  And  besides  this, 
when  I  am  reading  romances,  all  the  heroes  seem  to  re- 
semble you  when  you  are  happiest ;  they  have  the  same 


Vernon  Grove.  53 

soft  wavy  hair,  the  same  perfect  features ;" — and  Sybil 
was  going  on  to  describe  some  one  who  was  almost 
ideally  perfect  in  face  and  form,  when  Vernon  stopped 
her. 

No  wonder  that  her  mind  was  full  of  romantic  no- 
tions, when  Vernon's  library  had  been  daily  open  to 
her ;  no  wonder  that  in  her  intercourse  with  a  matter- 
of-fact  old  lady,  and  a  morose  disappointed  man,  she 
had  almost  lost  the  language'  and  ideas  of  childhood,  and 
like  a  forced  hot-house  plant,  had  expanded  before  her 
time.  Shut  out  from  the  world  of  children,  their  sports 
and  simple  pleasures,  her  mind  took  its  coloring  only 
from  the  company  it  had  kept,  and  yet  the  playfulness 
of  childhood  had  not  deserted  her,  though  her  judgment 
belonged  to  maturer  years. 

"I  did  not  mean  that  you  should  particularize  so 
minutely,"  said  Vernon,  somewhat  embarrassed  by  her 
candor,  "  but  let  us  return  to  the  old  subject.  Listen 
to  me,  Sybil:  after  all  that  you  have  said  I  am  not  dis- 
couraged yet ;  promise  to  be  my  sister,  and  I  will  act  in 
all  things  as  you  desire,  because,  moreover,  I  know  that 
you  will  not  abuse  your  power." 

Sybil  sighed,  for,  from  his  earnest  tone  she  knew  that 
there  could  be  no  escape.  It  was  a  stupendous  under- 
taking to  her  young  heart ;  half  her  liberty  would  be 
lost  watching  over  him;  but  then  she  owed  him  so 
much  and  he  was  so  lonely,  so  doubly  lonely  because  of 
his  blindness  and  the  hard-heartedness  of  the  sister  who 
had  forsaken  him ;  what  could  she  do  but  promise  to 
try  at  least,  and  putting  her  hand  in  his  again,  she  spoke 
in  a  firm  voice,  but  with  a  beating  faltering  heart,  the 
words  which  had  cost  her  such  a  struggle. 


54  Vernon  Grove. 

"  I  can  but  try,  and  I  will ;  but  it  must  not  all  be  on 
my  side,  Mr.  Vernon ;  an  orphan,  brotherless,  sisterless, 
I,  too,  have  need  of  a  brother's  care ;  what  I  am  to  be 
to  you,  will  you  in  the  same  spirit  be  to  me  ?" 

"  I  will,  so  help  me  God,"  he  said  impulsively  but  fer- 
vently, "  guard  you,  guide  you,  and  sacrifice  my  own 
happiness,  if  by  so  doing  it  would  benefit  you  in  any 
way." 

And  yet 

Why  do  I  write  that  word  of  doubt,  that  ominous 
yet  ?  She  trusted  him,  tears  starting  to  her  eyes  as  she 
felt  the  force  of  his  solemn  words  and  realized  that  she 
had  gained  a  friend  for  life.  Was  not  the  firm  pressure 
of  those  clasped  hands  a  seal  on  the  compact  ?  There 
was  nothing  chilling  in  that.  She  might  have  been 
painted  as  a  picture  of  Faith,  as  she  stood  there  in  her 
innocent  youth  with  scarcely  the  knowledge  in  her  heart 
that  there  was  such  a  thing  in  the  wide  world  as  a  trust 
betrayed^  a  confiding  heart  deceived. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

"  Better  trust  all,  and  be  deceived, 

And  weep  that  trust  and  that  deceiving, 
Than  doubt  one  heart,  that  if  believed, 
Had  blest  one's  life  with  true  believing. 

Oh,  in  this  mocking  world,  too  fast 

The  doubting  fiend  o'ertakes  our  youth ; 

Better  be  cheated  to  the  last, 

Than  lose  the  blessed  hope  of  truth." 

MRS.  BUTLER. 

"  He  who  can  take  advice  is  sometimes  superior  to  him  who  can 
give  it."— VON  KNEBEL. 

SHE  trusted  him  and  the  morrow's  sun  rose  like  any 
other  brilliant  morning  sun  from  his  golden  bed  in  the 
east,  peeping  daintily  through  his  embroidered  curtains 
to  see  if  th  •  earth  were  the  same  as  when  he  left  it 
yesterday ;  if  the  flowers  blushed  at  his  coming,  and  the 
diamond  dew  glittered  on  the  long  bending  speargrass; 
if  the  laborer  blessed  him  as  he  wended  his  way  over 
the  smiling  fields,  and  the  birds  greeted  him  with  a 
morning  carol.  Then  he  glanced  at  Sybil's  window, 
flushing  the  curtain  with  a  rosy  glow,  to  see  if  a  white- 
robed  maiden  stood  there  watching  for  his  rising.  In 
truth  he  saw  her  there  with  the  glory  of  the  early  morn- 
ing around  her  :  then  boldly  gazed  his  majesty  from  his 
gorgeous  couch,  parting  the  drapery  with  his  jewelled 


56  Vernon  Grove. 

fingers;  right  royal  were  the  robes  he  donned,  right 
glittering  his  regal  crown :  then  higher  and  higher  he 
rose  in  his  azure-paved  path,  more  brilliant  each  instant 
he  shone,  until  all  the  visible  earth  acknowledged  his 
presence,  while  he  smiled  at  his  reception,  and  the  smile 
was  reflected  on  hill  and  plain,  on  rill  and  river,  on  the 
tall  tree  tops  and  the  blue-eyed  violet,  and  a  busy 
murmur  of  life  joined  the  silent  welcome,  while  Sybil, 
shading  her  eyes,  watched  his  triumphant  passage  in  the 
heavens. 

Yes,  she  stood  there,  watching,  but  alas,  she  was 
scarcely  the  free-hearted  happy  Sybil  of  yesterday,  and 
the  sun  saw  no  welcoming  smile  upon  her  gentle  face. 
She  felt  that  she  had  undertaken  something  gigantic, 
and  as  though  a  little  bird  of  the  woodland  had  promised 
protection  to  the  eagle;  but  what  she  had  promised, 
now  that  her  word  was  passed,  that  she  determined  faith- 
fully to  perform. 

It  was  a  new  experience  for  Sybil  to  be  gloomy  and 
thoughtful,  for  her  disposition  was  one  of  those  bright 
and  happy  ones  "  which  mourners  even  approve."  And 
yet  that  placid  temperament  by  no  means  betokened  a 
perfect  character,  for  there  can  scarcely  be  perfection  of 
character  without  trial,  and  Sybil  had  had  no  trials.  She 
had  received  none  of  that  chastening  which  is  necessary 
to  the  formation  of  a  proper  religious  spirit ;  she  was 
what  she  appears  to  us  rather  from  circumstance, 
from  native  disposition,  than  from  any  effort  of  hers ; 
she  had  seldom  known  what  self-denial  was,  had  never 
been  thwarted,  and  having  had  no  young  companions, 
was  a  stranger  to  those  little  differences  which  are 
so  apt,  while  they  tarnish  the  fair  heart  of  childhood 


Vernon  Grove.  57 

in  some  instances,  to  cause  others  to  rise  superior  to 
them. 

But  then,  on  the  other  hand,  had  these  early  trials 
indeed  come,  Sybil  Avas  well  fortified  to  meet  them  by 
the  watchful  training  of  her  good  grandmother,  who  had 
passed  through  many  a  furnace  of  affliction,  and  who 
had  but  one  abiding  thought,  a  future  world,  and  how 
to  prepare  herself  for  it.  She  took  every  opportunity 
to  teach  to  Sybil  the  simple  duties  of  life,  and  had  made 
the  Bible  a  part  of  her  daily  instruction,  arid  Sybil  knew 
that  it  spoke  of  a  wrong  path  and  a  right  one,  of  evil 
and  good,  pride  and  lowliness,  lip  service  and  heart 
service,  worldly  love  and  Christian  love,  and  she  chose 
from  its  mingled  elements  the  better  way.  Then  with  a 
practical  piety  which  linked  itself  with  the  minutest  cir- 
cumstance in  life,  Mrs.  Gordon  had  interested  her  young 
charge  in  every-day  stories  drawn  from  the  chambers 
of  fiction  in  her  own  fertile  brain,  the  burden  of  which 
was,  that  life  was  a  battle  that  had  to  be  fought,  that 
even  in  that  battle  we  should  be  as  much  concerned 
about  small  things  and  trifles  as  about  more  important 
considerations,  that  a  hasty  word,  a  petulant  spirit,  an 
unforgiving  heart,  were  the  commencement  of  crimes  of 
a  deeper  dye,  and  that  the  murderer  was  once  an  inno- 
cent child  sleeping  upon  its  mother's  breast. 

"  Stop  the  first  thought  of  evil,"  she  would  say  to 
Sybil,  who  stood  by,  listening  attentively,  more  for  the 
sake  of  the  story  than  the  moral,  "  '  an  angel  could  do 
no  more,'  and  there  will  be  nothing  left  of  which  to 
repent ;  and  above  all  be  careful  of  those  household  sins, 
impatience,  fault-finding,  petulance,  and  coldness,  which 
do  not  so  much  affect  your  own  happiness  as  that  of 
3* 


58  Vernon  Grove. 

those  around  you  ;  at  first  they  may  be  but  a  cloud  no 
bigger  than  a  man's  hand,  but  those  clouds  very  often 
grow  and  cover  the  Avhole  heavens." 

It  was  by  thus  being  daily  fortified  that  Sybil  early 
learned  the  lessons  of  truth  and  goodness. 

As  she  stood  by  the  window  musing  upon  her  first 
real  trial,  and  watching  the  upward  progress  of  the  sun, 
it  did  not  occur  to  her,  occupied  as  she  was  with  other 
thoughts,  that  the  plan  determined  upon  the  night 
before,  was  to  have  their  morning  meal  an  hour  earlier 
than  usual  on  account  of  their  projected  excursion,  and 
it  was  not  until  she  heard  Vernon's  voice  busied  in  giv- 
ing orders  for  their  pleasure  trip,  that  she  hastened 
down  to  meet  him. 

"You  are  late,"  he  said  coldly,  as  she  bade  him  good 
morning,  "  and  I  have  been  waiting  some  time  for  you  ; 
before  one  learns  anything  else  in  life,  he  should  learn 
by  heart  the  lesson,  '  be  punctual.'1  Mrs.  Gordon  does 
not  feel  well  enough  to  come  down  to-day,  and  you 
must  take  her  place  as  something  of  a  housekeeper  and 
general  overseer,  which,  by-the-by,  will  be  quite  in 
accordance  with  your  promise  of  last  night.  Come,  we 
will  wait  no  longer,  and  after  breakfast  you  can  inquire 
if  she  needs  any  thing  before  we  go." 

Sybil's  face  grew  as  white  as  her  morning  robe,  first 
because  Vernon's  tone  was  abrupt  and  impatient,  and  it 
reminded  her  that  she  was  a  slave  to  the  bond  of  the 
night  previous,  and  next,  because  this  hinted  surveil- 
lance over  the  household  was  an  unexpected  duty  and 
not  at  all  to  her  taste;  then  to  be  absent  from  her  place 
at  meal-time  was  an  unusual  thing  for  her  grandmother, 
and  though  her  first  impulse  was  to  fly  to  her  and  ascer- 


Vernon  Grove.  59 

tain  her  exact  state  of  health,  feeling  that  Vernon 
expected  her  to  remain  where  she  was,  mechanically  she 
obeyed  what  she  thought  was  his  wish,  and  yet  the 
restraint  annoyed  her,  and  she  felt  angry  with  herself 
for  yielding  so  quietly  to  what  she  knew  was  wrong, 
nevertheless  she  led  him  to  the  breakfast-room  and  offi- 
ciated with  grace  and  sweetness  in  her  novel  position. 

It  was  a  great  effort  to  her,  too,  to  control  her  varied 
emotions,  but  that  which  affected  her  most,  was  the  ill- 
ness of  her  grandmother,  because  it  always  distressed 
her  to  see  her  suffering ;  and  disappointment,  also,  was 
added  to  her  other  little  troubles,  for  she  felt  that 
her  proper  place  was  at  her  bedside,  and  that  the  excur- 
sion must  be  given  up ;  and  this  last  subject  she  broached 
to  Vernon. 

"  By  no  means,"  he  answered  hastily,  to  her  propo- 
sition, "  to  postpone  the  pic-nic ;"  "  our  arrangements  are 
all  made,  the  carriage  is  at  the  door,  and  one  of  the 
servants  can  remain  with  your  grandmother  until  we 
return." 

Sybil's  eyes  filled  with  tears ;  "  I  never  leave  my 
grandmother  while  she  is  suffering,"  she  said,  "  and  can- 
not think  of  going  to-day ;  some  other  morning  will  be 
just  as  bright  and  lovely." 

"  I  have  already  said,"  he  retorted  in  a  tone  so  stern 
that  Sybil  started,  "  that  to-day  we  go,  and  on  no  other ; 
I  shall  expect  you  to  accompany  me ;"  and  calling  his 
servant,  he  left  the  room  before  Sybil  could  frame  words 
to  answer. 

"Trifles  do,  indeed,  make  up  the  sum  of  life,"  she  said 
to  herself,  as  he  left  her  alone,  "  what  unhappiness  a 
single  selfish  imperious  will  can  create !"  She  wondered 


60  Vernon  Grove. 

where  her  courage  had  fled,  her  determination  to  cor- 
rect his  faults  when  in  opposition  to  her  ideas  of  right. 
A  very  breath  of  air  they  were,  it  would  seem,  gone,  all 
gone  at  the  sound  of  those  emphatic  words — "to-day 
ice  go." 

But  no,  Sybil's  moment  of  self  communion  gave  her 
strength,  and  she  arose  with  a  stolid  look  of  rebellion  on 
her  face. 

"  I  will  not  go,"  she  said,  firmly  planting  her  foot  on 
the  ground  as  if  defying  a  whole  legion  of  foes,  "  I  will 
not  leave  one  who  loves  me,  lonely  and  suffering,  for  an 
insignificant  ruined  church,  no,  not  even  for  the  ruins 
of  Rome,  and  I  shall  tell  him  so." 

Sybil  might  have  spared  herself  her  childish  passion- 
ate exclamations  of  indignation,  and  the  scornful  con- 
traction of  her  haughty  brow,  for  her  tragic  attitude, 
worthy  of  theatrical  boards,  was  suddenly  altered  to 
one  of  joy  as  the  door  opened,  and  Mrs.  Gordon 
entered,  who  in  answer  to  Sybil's  numerous  questions, 
told  her  that  she  had  been  seriously  indisposed,  but  that 
she  was  now  quite  restored  again.  Sybil  offered  to 
remain  at  home  with  her  for  fear  of  a  return  of  her  ill- 
ness, but  Mrs.  Gordon  positively  declined  her  company, 
telling  her  that  she  must,  on  no  account  relinquish  her 
anticipated  drive,  especially  since  she  had  promised 
Vernon  her  sisterly  guidance,  and  before  many  minutes 
elapsed,  she  found  herself  seated  by  Vernon  and  on  their 
way  to  the  ruined  church. 

Sybil  entered  upon  her  pleasure  excursion  in  silence ; 
Vernon  was  silent,  too,  but  from  a  different  cause  ;  he 
was  enjoying  the  dewy  freshness  of  the  morning,  the 
singing  of  the  myriad  birds,  and  the  exhilarating  swift- 


Vernon  Grove.  61 

ness  of  their  course  through  the  fragrant  woods;  she 
was  wondering  how  best  she  might  tell  him  that  she 
thought  his  .conduct  had  been  selfish  and  unfeeling,  and 
that  spite  of  his  angry  tone  she  had  determined  not  to 
come,  had  her  grandmother's  indisposition  continued. 
But,  alas,  she  knew  not  how  to  begin ;  the  woodland 
bird  was  indeed  no  match  for  the  proud  eagle.  She  had 
a  vague  idea  that  something  in  the  form  of  a  sermon 
might  touch  that  hardened  heart,  and  she  had  already 
selected  her  text  from  a  sentence  which  she  had  met 
the  day  before,  and  which  had  dwelt  forcibly  on  her 
mind :  "  The  worst  education  which  teaches  self-denial, 
is  better  than  the  best  which  teaches  everything  else, 
and  not  that,"  when  Vernon  unconsciously  broke  the 
silence,  and  for  ever  scattered  the  text,  argument,  and 
conclusion  of  Sybil's  anticipated  discourse. 

"  What  a  divine  morning  it  is,  Sybil.  God  gives  us 
an  earnest  of  Heaven  sometimes  in  a  day  such  as  this; 
is  it  not  perfect,  and  to  your  favored  eyes,  does  not  the 
sun  shine  with  a  peculiar  brilliancy  ?" 

"  Yes,"  she  answered,  vacantly,  scarcely  knowing  that 
even  that  unsatisfactory  monosyllable  had  escaped  from 
her  lip's. 

"  And  the  birds,"  continued  Vernon,  "  they  seem  full- 
choired  this  morning ;  are  there  not  many  around  us 
enjoying  the  bi'cath  of  Spring?  But  what  a  busy  kind 
of  enjoyment !  I  trust  that  the  time  may  never  come, 
if  the  transmigration  of  souls  be  not  a  fable,  for  mine  to 
dwell  in  the  body  of  a  bird.  What  an  impatient,  twit- 
tering, restless  existence ;  what  a  building  and  pulling 
down,  what  energies  wasted,  what  a  round  of  food- 
seeking,  food-devouring  engagements  they  have.  N"o, 


62  Vernon  Grove. 

give  me  the  stupid  calm  of  the  snail  rather ;  but  you 
have  not  answered  my  question,  Sybil ;  do  you  disdain 
simple  prose  and  require  poetry  on  such  a  day  as  this  as 
a  medium  of  conversation?  Well,  then,  are  not  the 
little  songsters,  to  quote  something  quoted  by  every- 
body— 

'  Thick  as  autumnal  leaves  that  strow  the  brooks 
In  Vallambrosa?'  " 

But  all  in  vain  was  Vernon's  earnest  call  for  sym- 
pathy, and  his  enthusiastic  mood  was  only  replied  to  by 
a  faint,  "  I  believe  so." 

"  But  do  you  not  know  it  ?  Of  what  are  you  think- 
ing this  morning,  Sybil  ?" 

Sybil  roused  herself  at  last  to  answer  in  a  grave  and 
thoughtful  tone. 

"  I  was  not  thinking,  I  confess,"  she  said,  "  either  of 
sun  or  birds,  but  I  was  thinking,  Mr.  Vernon,  of  your 
heartless  conduct  this  morning,  and  in  what  language  to 
couch  it,  and  how  I  could  tell  you,  that  if  I  had  not  left 
my  grandmother  well  and  cheerful,  I  would  have 
braved  your  displeasure  and  would  have  remained  at 
home  with  her." 

Vernon  smiled  in  derision,  then  frowned.  It  was  a 
new  thing  to  be  found  fault  with,  quite  new  for  any  one 
to  dictate  to  him  what  he  should  or  should  not  do  or  be, 
and  he  spoke  bitter  words  of  sarcasm,  forgetting  quite 
the  bond  of  the  night  before. 

"  You  display  a  wonderful  dignity,"  he  said,  bowing 
low  to  Sybil,  "  an  extraordinary  propriety ;  why  not 
have  displayed  this  unparalleled  and  heroic  devotion 
before  we  started,  and  I  could  easily  have  dispensed  with 


Vernon  Grove.  63 

your  reluctant  presence  ;  but  stay,  we  are  not  harmoni- 
ous, I  perceive,  with  these  elements  ;  they  betoken  any- 
thing but  a,  pleasure  trip,  I  will  order  John  to  return." 

"  Stop,  Mr.  Vernon,"  said  Sybil  with  a  trembling 
voice,  "  I  have  a  few  words  to  say  to  you  before  you 
give  your  order.  I  do  think  that  you  were  wrong  this 
morning,  and  I  determined  to  tell  you  so,  because  you 
bestowed  upon  me  the  right  to  criticise  your  faults  in 
our  new  relation  of  last  evening ;  and  besides,  let  the 
question  come  home  to  yourself;  do  you  think  that  I 
would  have  left  you  had  you  been  lonely  and  in  pain,  for 
any  Heeting  party  of  pleasure?  No,  upon  my  word  I 
would  not  /" 

The  soft  accents  of  the  truthful  voice  fell  like  dew 
upon  his  angry  heart.  Ah,  then,  he  had  a  claim  upon 
some  one  who  would  remain  by  his  couch  were  he  suf- 
fering ;  some  one  other  than  a  paid  menial  to  attend  to 
his  wants.  There  was  positive  comfort  in  the  thought. 
Lonely,  deserted,  afflicted,  he  still  had  one  friend, 
a  bright,  companionable  being,  who  would  not  forsake 
him  even  for  her  own  pleasure.  The  idea  had  a  wonder- 
fully soothing  effect,  while  common-place  thanks  seemed 
wretchedly  out  of  place  after  her  earnest  tone,  and 
"  God  bless  you,  Sybil,"  came  struggling  through  his 
quivering  lips. 

But  that  was  not  enough  for  Sybil.  Was  she  infatu- 
ated that  she  could  not  be  satisfied  with  his  softened 
mood  ?  She  wanted  the  whole  letter  of  the  law  fulfilled ; 
she  wanted  him  to  confess  his  fault  like  a  little  child,  to 
say  that  he  was  sorry  and  would  do  so  no  more, — to  do 
anything  that  evinced  repentance. 

"  Then  do  you  not  think  that  you  were  wrong  this 


64  Vernon  Grove. 

morning?  Oh,  Mr.  Vernon,  only  say  it,  and  feel  it 
too." 

Vernon  was  silent,  Sybil  half  frightened  for  fear  that 
she  had  ventured  too  far,  but  it  was  not  that  which 
annoyed  him.  The  words  refused  to  come  to  his  lips 
because  he  could  not  understand  the  new  sensation ;  he 
could  not  realize  how  he,  a  man  of  the  world,  an  inde- 
pendent actor  and  thinker,  sat  there  swayed  and  influ- 
enced by  the  remarks  of  a  simple  country  girl. 

"  Then  you  will  not  say  it,"  she  said  mournfully,  "  I 
can  answer  your  question  now.  The  sun  does  not  shine 
brightly  to-day,  nor  are  there  myriads  of  birds  who  .sing 
joyfully  in  our  path.  The  earth  is  a  very  gloomy  place ; 
come  let  us  return,  since  we  both  wish  it." 

But  the  order  was  not  given,  and  in  its  stead  four 
little  words  were  spoken  by  a  manly  voice,  which 
brightened  wood,  and  blossom,  and  sky,  and  birds,  and 
more  than  each  and  all,  Sybil's  downcast  face. 

"I  was  wrong,  Sybil" — four  little  words,  but  quite 
enough  for  her  who  heard  them,  for  buoyant  with  lite 
and  happiness,  laughing,  talking,  singing,  she  now 
showed  to  Vernon  a  new  and  fascinating  phase  of  her 
ever-varying  character. 

As  the  carriage  left  the  beaten  road  and  entered  the 
shaded  wood,  Sybil's  tone  became  more  subdued.  "Do 
you  not  perceive,"  she  said  to  her  companion,  "  by  the 
cold  dampness  of  the  air,  that  we  are  close  upon  a  deli- 
ciously  sheltered  spot,  where  the  boughs  almost  meet  and 
mingle  overhead  ?  It  puts  me  in  miiid  of  some  lines  that 
I  met  with  the  other  day — 

'  Scarce  doth  one  ray 
Even  when  a  soft  wind  parts  the  foliage,  steal 


Vernon  Grove.  65 

O'er  the  bronzed  pillars  of  the  deep  arcade; 
Or  if  it  doth,  'tis  with  a  mellowed  hue 
Of  glow-worm  colored  light.1 

How  beautiful  is  that  description  of  such  a  place  as 
this,  and  then  add  to  it,  but  alas  in  my  own  cold  prose, 
that  a  stream  gleams  at  intervals  through  the  trees,  and 
that  the  rippling  murmur  that  you  hear,  is  the  flowing 
of  its  waters  over  crystal-looking  pebbles,  and  you  have 
a  rural  picture  unsurpassed  for  quiet  beauty.  You  have 
lived  in  the  city,  Mr.  Vernon,  and  I  sometimes  think 
seem  to  prefer  its  crowded  streets  to  this  hush  of  nature, 
but  to  me  it  appears  as  if  no  art  could  equal  the  delight, 
the  peace,  that  the  country  brings." 

"  In  days  past,"  returned  Vernon,  "  when  the  world 
was  to  me  what  it  is  to  you,  it  is  true  that  I  preferred  a 
more  active  busy  life,  a  life  among  men  ;  now  I  would 
not  make  the  exchange,  but  let  me  have  my  sight  again, 
and  I  would  gladly  return  once  more  to  the  domain  of 
art.  Think  of  the  luxuries  of  a  city  life,  its  amusements, 
its  resources,  its  pictures,  its  architecture !  You  do  not 
know  my  friend  Linwood,  Albert  Lin  wood,  but  were  he 
here  he  would  convince  you,  with  his  eloquent  words,  of 
your  mistaken  choice,  for  he,  too,  loves  a  city  life  and  its 
advantages,  and  only  visits  the  country  occasionally  for 
inspiration,  returning  with  renewed  zest  to  his  pictures, 
and  that  artificial  life  which  you  are  so  ready  to 
condemn." 

"  You  betray  both  him  and  yourself,"  said  Sybil 
quietly,  "  when  you  say  that  he  must  needs  come  to  the 
country  for  inspiration,  for  from  whence  do  poets  and 
painters  obtain  their  ideas  and  images  except  from  the 
study  of  nature  ?" 


66  Vernon  Grove. 

"  I  am  afraid  that  I  have  given  you  a  false  idea  of 
Limvood's  predilections;  he  is  scarcely  a  devotee  to 
nature,  unless  it  be  human  nature  when  he  studies  it  to 
give  a  life-like  reality  to  an  expression  in  the  face  of  a 
portrait.  Although  he  occasionally  transfers  a  landscape 
view  to  canvass  (for  instance,  that  exquisite  picture  of 
Evening,  which  hangs  in  your  chamber,  and  which  yon 
admire  so  much  for  its  peculiar  coloring),  what  most 
engrosses  him  is  portrait  painting,  or  sketching  ideal 
faces  of  angelic  loveliness,  for  he  is  a  perfect  worshipper 
of  beauty  in  woman." 

Vernon  stopped,  bent  his  head  down  ward  for  a  moment, 
as  though  he  was  ashamed  of  trying  to  hide  the  flush 
that  covered  his  face,  then  raised  it,  while  Sybil  noticed 
that  when  he  spoke  again,  it  was  no  longer  with  his  clear 
measured  utterance,  but  with  a  quick  out  pouring  of 
word  after  word,  as  though  he  must  say,  and  that  in  a 
given  time,  a  certain  number  of  sentences. 

"  He  painted  a  face  once  for  me,  Sybil,"  he  resumed, 
"  not  an  ideal,  but  a  living,  breathing  reality,  a  face  so 
exquisitely  lovely,  so  queen-like  in  its  majestic  grace,  that 
to  see  it  was  to  love  it,  and  I  loved  it,  fearfully,  madly, 
until  I  discovered  that  what  was  so  fair,  so  innocently 
fair,  could  be  false  too.  You  have  heard  that  the  pious 
monks  of  La  Trappe  have  ever  before  them  the  painted 
form  of  a  beautiful  woman,  and  that  on  the  other  side 
of  the  portrait,  a  hideous  skeleton  is  depicted ; — this  is 
fixed  by  machinery  so  as  to  revolve  continually  in  a  way 
that  makes  the  figures  blend  in  disgusting  proximity,  a 
type  of  the  rottenness  and  insecurity  of  all  earthly  beauty, 
a  warning  that  even  thus  most  surely  mingles  life's 
divinest  creations  with  death's  unsightly  carcass ;  so  I 


Vernon  Grove.  67 

would  have  had  some  monster,  some  fiend  of  the  shades 
of  darkness,  painted  on  the  reverse  of  Linwood's  picture 
and  have  called  it  by  its  fitting  name,  Deceit." 

Vernon's  breath  came  quick,  and  he  gasped  out  rather 
than  spoke  his  closing  words,  Avhile  Sybil  watched  him 
in  mute  wonder.  She  would  have  been  glad  to  hear 
more  of  that  mysterious  picture  which  had  moved 
Vernon  so,  and  the  description  of  which  had  given  him 
a  death-like  pallor,  and  brought  out  cold  drops  of  dew 
upon  his  brow,  but  he  appeared  indisposed  to  reveal  any 
more  than  he  had  done,  and  sinking  back  within  the 
carriage,  covered  his  face  with  his  hands  and  seemed  to 
give  himself  up  to  thought. 

Sybil  sat  statue-like,  fearing  to  annoy  him  even  by  a 
movement,  and  thus  he  dreamed,  perchance  of  some  ter- 
rible hour  of  the  past,  perhaps  of  an  uncertain  future, 
until  they  found  that  they  had  reached  their  destination, 
the  ruined  church. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

"  Thus  solemnized  and  softened,  death  is  mild 

And  terrorless  as  the  serencst  night : 
Here  could  I  hope,  like  some  inquiring  child 
Sporting  on  graves,  that  death  did  hide  from  human  sight 
Sweet  secrets,  or  beside  its  breathless  sleep 
That  loveliest  dreams  perpetual  watch  did  keep." 

SHELLEY. 

"  Wasting  storms 

Have  striven  to  drag  it  down :  yet  still  it  stands, 
Enduring  like  a  truth  from  age  to  age." 

BARRY  CORNWALL. 

SYBIL  and  her  companion  alighted  in  silence,  words 
seeming  superfluous  to  convey  to  each  other  the  impress 
which  their  minds  had  received  from  the  solemn  stillness 
that  reigned  around  them.  They  both  felt  that  they 
were  treading  on  sacred  ground,  and  that  besides  being 
the  home  of  prayer,  the  place  where,  in  time  past,  songs 
of  praise  had  mingled  with  the  carol  of  the  birds,  the 
graves  of  the  dead  were  around  them  and  in  their  very 
path.  She  led  Vernon  at  once  to  the  shaded  church- 
yard, and  there,  seated  on  a  half-defaced  slab,  thick  with 
the  mould  of  years,  they  listened  awhile  with  a  deep 
sense  of  tranquil  enjoyment  to  that  unceasing  forest 
requiem,  the  rustling  of  the  shivering  leaves,  now  full 
like  a  chorus  of  mournful  voices,  and  then  dying  away 
as  if  echoed  from  spirit-land. 


Vernon  Grove.  69 

"  Here  the  weary  rest,"  at  last  said  Vernon,  breaking 
the  long  silence,  "yes,  there  remaineth  a  rest ;  the  Bible 
says  that,  does  it  not,  Sybil  ?" 

"  Yes,"  she  answered  softly,  and  with  an  audible  sigh, 
"  but  only  for  the  people  of  God." 

"  Does  Sybil  sigh  for  herself,  or  others  ?"  asked  her 
companion.  "For  myself,  myself,"  she  answered  eagerly. 
"  Oh,  Mr.  Vernon,  in  such  a  place,  in  such  an  hour  as 
this,  does  not  the  earth  and  all  its  scenes  seem  a  dream, 
and  only  what  follows  after,  the  reality  ?  And  yet  how, 
how  much  we  care  for  the  fevered  dream,  how  little  for 
the  solemn  reality !  It  is  only  when  some  experience 
like  this  overtakes  me,  and  presses  upon  me  a  solemn 
admonition,  that  I  feel  the  true  significance  of  discipline, 
and  that 

1  This  life  of  mine 
Must  be  lived  out,  and  a  grave  thoroughly  won.1 " 

"  If  you  in  your  purity  are  not  fit  for  the  rest  of  the 
grave  and  the  peace  of  another  world,  then  who  on  this 
wide  earth  is  ?"  said  Vernon. 

"  Hush,  hush,"  answered  Sybil  earnestly,  to  what  she 
thought  Vernon's  almost  impious  remark,  "you  know 
not  what  you  say ;  ah,  no ;  good  enough  for  those  pure 
skies !  One  could  scarcely  be  good  enough  without 
some  severe  trial  like  yours,  Mr.  Vernon,  if  you  would 
only  view  it  aright,  or  the  death  of  some  beloved  friend 
bringing  anguish  and  desolation  with  it.  Sometimes  I 
am  rash  enough  to  wish  that  some  great  trial  would  over- 
take me,  or  that  a  fearful  temptation  might  assail  me,  so 
that  I  might  indeed  be  like  those  to  whom  the  Scriptures 


70  Vernon  Grove. 

declare,  and  to  him  that  overcometh  I  will  give  a  crown 
of  life." 

Sybil's  whole  soul  shone  in  her  face  as  she  uttered 
these  words,  not  her  every-day  soul  of  cheerful  gladness, 
but  her  Sabbath  soul  with  a  halo  of  holiness  around  it. 
This  would-be  martyr  spirit  gave  to  her  countenance  a 
lustre  that  it  had  never  worn  before,  and  had  even  Lin- 
wood's  critical  eyes  beheld  her,  she  would  have  been  to 
him  a  picture,  an  inspiration ! 

"  You  are  an  eloquent  preacher,"  returned  Vernon, 
"but  you  must  remember  that  we  are  not  within  the 
church,  you  as  pulpit  orator  and  I  as  audience ;  besides, 
you  forget  that  I  hold  my  own  peculiar  tenets,  and  that 
like  Faust  I  would  say,  'that  I  know  enough  of  this  life, 
and  of  the  world  to  come  we  have  no  near  prospect ; 
what  need  is  there  for  man  to  sweep  eternity ;  all  he  can 
know  lies  within  his  grasp.'  Your  preaching  therefore 
will  not  reach  my  case  ;  moreover,  you  must  remember 
that  I  am  ignorant  of  the  beauties  around,  .which,  no 
doubt,  you  are  enjoying,  and  that  I  brought  you  here 
for  the  very  selfish  reason  that  you  might  describe  them 
to  me." 

Sybil  sighed  again ;  she  could  have  spoken  longer, 
more  eloquently  still  upon  the  forbidden  subject,  but  she 
felt  that  Vernon  neither  understood  nor  appreciated  what 
she  said. 

"  Sighing  again,  Sybil,"  said  Vernon  in  a  half-banter- 
ing tone,  and  speaking  recklessly,  as  if  he  cared  not 
whether  she  applied  what  he  said  to  himself  or  her, — 
"he  who  sighs  because  he  has  no  misfortunes,  will  soon 
find  that  they  will  come  to  him  unbidden;  let  one  be 
ever  so  happy  in  life,  his  paths  all  sunshine,  his  existence 


Vernon  Grove.  71 

so  joyous  that  he  will  be  ready  to  exclaim  'let  me  be 
earth's  denizen  for  ever,'  and  in  a  night,  in  a  single  hour, 
a  hand  will  come  and  smite  him  to  the  ground,  perhaps 
closing  his  eyes  to  the  beauty  of  life,  and  so  closing  his 
heart  to  holier  influences  for  ever.  No,  let  him  enjoy 
while  he  may ;  why  fight  the  never  ending  battle  of 
existence  to  be  what  the  world  calls  '  good  ?'  Why  even 
try,  when  daily  as  he  tries  he  fails  ?" 

"  I  have  read  somewhere,"  said  Sybil  sadly,  pained  by 
Vernon's  levity  and  indifference,  "  that  what  we  ear- 
nestly and  truly  aspire  to  be,  that,  in  some  sense,  we  are, 
and  the  mere  aspiration,  by  changing  the  frame  of  mind, 
for  the  moment  realizes  itself!  Oh,  let  us  never  give  up 
trying  even  to  the  end." 

Sybil  spoke  earnestly,  and  Vernon  seemed  to  listen 
with  interest,  then  as  if  desiring  to  dismiss  the  subject 
altogether,  he  renewed  his  request  for  his  companion  to 
describe  the  scene. 

"  It  is  wild  enough,"  she  began,  "  to  be  the  very 
haunt  and  home  of  the  Dryads,  and  old  Pan  himself 
might  take  shelter  beneath  these  enormous  trees,  which 
are  fit 


'  to  be  the  mast 


Of  some  great  admiral,' 

and  which  shoot  up  from  the  knarled  exposed  roots  into 
a  straight  tall  growth,  interlacing  their  boughs  overhead. 
This  is  their  appearance  near,  but  as  I  look  through  the 
wood,  myriad  gothic  arches  meet  the  eye,  until  their  line 
of  beauty  is  lost  in  the  distance.  Here  and  there,  long 
vines,  some  of  them  almost  as  thick  as  a  sapling,  hang 
from  the  trees,  trailing  their  shaggy  barks  in  varied  fes- 


72  Vernon  Grove. 

toons,  or  creeping  like  dark  serpents  on  the  ground. 
Around  us  are  many  slabs,  some  broken,  some  preserved 
entire,  but  all  worn  with  age  and  covered  with  damp 
green  moss.  Then  by  the  inscriptions  it  would  seem 
that  husbands  and  wives  .lie  side  by  side,  and  soldiers 
rest  here  peacefuUy  from  war  and  bloodshed.  Here, 
too,  at  our  very  feet,  are  little  children  sleeping,  and 
tender  words  show  that  some  home  was  darkened  by 
their  early  flight.  To  the  right  stands  the  church, 
which  is  indeed  a  ruin,  but  very  picturesque,  as  you  said, 
in  its  decay.  Scarcely  an  arch  is  preserved  entire,  and 
the  sunshine  glances  down  into  the  unsheltered  aisles 
below.  Here  and  there,  the  young,  fresh,  green,  and  the 
weather-stained  leaves  of  the  ivy  mix  their  shades  in 
charming  contrast,  and  entwine  around  the  crumbling 
and  broken  pillars." 

"  Fit  types  of  my  fresh  young  Sybil  and  her  weather- 
beaten  friend,"  interrupted  Vernon  playfully. 

Sybil  looked  at  him  fixedly  for  a  moment.  One  pecu- 
liarity of  hers  was,  that  though  she  appreciated  wit  and 
brilliant  repartee,  her  mind  could  not  take  in  the  equi- 
vocal meaning  of  badinage.  Her  own  nature  was  so 
transparent,  that  she  looked  for  the  same  transparency 
in  others.  The  soft  breeze  lifted  Vernon's  brown  hair 
from  his  brow,  and  his  face  wore  such  a  calm  happy 
look,  so  free  from  any  aspect  of  care,  that  Sybil  said 
gently,  "  you  are  not  so  very  old,  Mr.  Vernon ;  at  least 
you  do  not  look  so  to-day." 

"No  incredible  amount  of  years  has  passed  over  my 
head,  certainly,"  he  answered,  "  but  the  last  of  them, 
ah,  the  last  of  them  have  been  weary,  Aveary  years,  little 
Sybil.  If  one  does  indeed  live  in  feelings  and  heart- 


Vernon  Grove.  73 

throbs,  and  not  in  years,  mine  should  be  reckoned  at 
nearly  a  century,  while  the  young  tender  ivy  upon 
which  not  even  a  rude  breath  has  blown,  is  in  the  very 
spring  of  life,  and  I  must  persist  in  comparing  you  to  it 
and  myself  to  the  old  sere  leaves." 

Sybil  smiled  at  that  adjective  "little"  which  Yernon 
almost  always  prefixed  to  her  name,  for  though  not  yet 
arrived  at  the  medium  height  of  woman,  in  the  last  three 
years  she  had  developed  wonderfully,  and  she  felt  that 
to  any  one  save  Yernon,  she  would  be  little  SyMl  no 
longer.  She  liked  to  hear  it  come  unconsciously  from 
his  lips,  assuming  as  it  did  to  her  ears  a  character  of 
endearment. 

"  And  yet,"  she  answered  thoughtfully,  looking  up  to 
the  ruin,  "  they  twine  together  in  perfect  harmony,  and 
one  would  lose  half  its  fitness  and  beauty  without  the 
other." 

She  thought  only  of  the  ivy,  while  Yernon  thought 
but  of  her,  of  her  gentleness  and  goodness,  and  her 
ever-watchful  care  of  him,  and  he  wondered  mentally, 
how  long  the  tender  green  would  be  content  to  dwell 
side  by  side  with  the  weather-stained  leaves,  and  what 
rude  shock  would  come  at  last  to  tear  them  asunder. 
But  the  subject  was  too  painful  for  him  to  dwell  upon 
long,  and  he  hastened  to  direct  his  thoughts  into  another 
channel. 

First  they  had  their  rural  feast,  where  Sybil's  ingenu- 
ity was  called  upon  in  many  ways  to  supply  the  place  of 
home  comfort,  and  then  Yernon,  after  praising  her  for 
her  usefulness  and  activity,  suggested  that  upon  their 
programme  her  composition  should  be  next  placed. 

"What  more  fitting  time  could  we  have,"  he  said, 


74  Vernon  Grove. 

"  than  when  the  Spring  herself  breathes  over  us,  to 
read  an  essay  upon  her  charms  ?  I  suppose  that  it  will 
be  as  good  as  all  your  compositions  are,"  he  continued, 
"  but  I  think  that  I  must  excuse  you  from  saying  any- 
thing original  upon  the  subject." 

"I  knew  it,  I  felt  it,"  said  Sybil  eagerly,  "I  knew 
that  I  could  only  say  what  others  have  said,  and  so, 
though  perhaps  you  may  not  quite  like  it,  I  put  my 
thoughts  into  rhyme  as  a  sort  of  change  from  my  old 
beaten  track  of  prose,  but  you  have  taught  me  to  keep 
my  ideal  of  poetry  so  high,  that  I  am  half  ashamed  of 
them,  and  if  you  do  not  like  my  ambitious  attempt,  I 
can  only  promise  never  more  to  soar  in  a  region  so  much 
beyond  my  powers." 

Vernon  was  neither  pleased  nor  displeased,  he  was 
simply  curious  about  Sybil's  verses,  and  for  the  first  time 
for  months,  he  had  a  passionate  yearning  for  sight,  so 
that  he  might  see  her  expression,  Avhich  he  felt  if  it  were 
not  one  of  beauty,  must  be  one  of  perfect  confidence  in 
him  and  trust  in  his  judgment,  but  a  darkness  like  the 
night  only  answered  his  impracticable  wish. 

The  group  was  a  striking  one;  the  ruined  church 
and  broken  arches,  the  shaded  spot  and  giant  trees,  and 
the  grave-yard,  upon  one  of  the  tombs  of  which  Vernon 
reclined^  his  head  resting  upon  his  hand ;  then  at  his  feet 
on  a  mound,  which  might  have  been  a  grave,  sat  his 
companion,  trembling,  looking  up  for  sympathy,  even 
from  those  sightless  eyes,  ere  she  began  the  reading  of 
her  verses. 

"  Stop,"  said  Vernon,  as  she  unfolded  the  paper,  while 
his  old  sarcastic  mood,  almost  unbidden,  rose  to  his  lips 
in  chilling  words ;  "  the  verses  must  have  a  name,  of 


Vernon  Grove.  75 

course ;  surely  something  original  might  have  been 
aimed  at  there.  Have  you  not  called  the  piece  by  some 
such  cognomen  as  this — '  The  Jubilee  of  the  Year '  or 
*  The  Birth  of  the  Verdant  Leaves  ?' " 

"No,"  said  Sybil,  falteringly,  while  the  hot  blood 
dyed  her  face  crimson,  and  the  paper  rustled  in  her 
trembling  hands,  "  it  is  simply  Spring-time." 

"Read  on,"  he  said,  and  obediently  she  read  what 
she  had  written : 

"God  of  the  hours,  God  of  these  golden  hours! 

My  heart  o'erflows  with  love 

To  Thee,  who  giv'st  with  liberal  hand  these  flowers; 
To  Thee,  who  sendest  cool,  delicious  showers 
Fresh  from  the  founts  above. 

"God  of  the  hours,  the  fleeting,  checkered  time, 

When  nature  smiles  and  weeps, 
Thou  paintest  sunset  clouds  with  hues  sublime, 
Thou  tunest  bird-notes  to  the  joyous  chime 
That  all  creation  keeps. 

"Pale  emerald  trees,  how  gracefully  ye  twine 

Around  your  boughs  a  wreath ; 
Or  does  some  angel  hand,  with  touch  divine, 
Bring  from  celestial  bowers  your  verdure  fine 

To  deck  the  bowers  beneath  ? 

"How  silently  your  leaflets,  old  and  brown, 

On  undulating  wings, 

In  autumn  months,  came  floating,  floating  down, 
To  form  a  carpet  as  they  formed  a  crown 

For  you,  ye  forest  kings ! 

"Well  may  ye  bend  with  proud  and  haughty  sweep, 

For  sunbeams  love  to  lie 

Upon  your  boughs ;  the  breeze  ye  captive  keep, 
And  even  the  dew-drops,  which  the  night-clouds  weep, 

Upon  your  leaflets  die. 


76  Vernon  Grove. 


11  Last  eve  the  moon  on  modest  twilight  beamed, 

And  told  the  stars  'twas  Spring  I 
She  swept  the  wave,  deliciously  it  gleamed, 
She  touched  the  birds,  and  woke  them  as  they  dreamed 
A  lew  soft  notes  to  sing. 

;'God  of  the  April  flowers,  how  large  thy  gift — 

The  rainbow  of  the  skies 

That  spans  the  changing  clouds  with  footsteps  swift, 
And  '  rainbows  of  the  earth,'  that  meekly  lift 

To  Thee,  their  glorious  eyes. 

1(  And  not  content  with  flowers  rich  and  fair 

Thou  givest  perfume,  too, 
That  loads  with  burden  sweet  the  tender  air, 
And  comes  to  fill  the  heart  with  rapture  rare, 

Each  blushing  morn  anew. 


1  God  of  the  Spring-time  hours,  what  give  we  Thee 

While  thus  Thou  bounteous  art  ? 
Thou  owest  us  nought,  we  owe  Thee  all  we  see — 
Enjoyments,  hope,  thought,  health,  eternity, 

The  life-beat  of  each  heart. 


1  This  morn  came  birds,  on  pinions  bright  and  fleet, 

/Y  lullaby  to  sing 

To  Winter  as  he  slept, — but  other  voices  sweet 
The  low  dirge  drowned,  and  warbled  carol,  meet 
To  greet  the  waking  Spring. 


'  Thus  trees,  and  birds,  and  buds,  and  skies  conspire 

To  speak  unto  the  heart, 

1  Renew  thy  strength ;  be  fresh  ;  be  pure ;  desire 
To  be  new-touched  with  purifying  lire, 

That  Evil's  growth  depart.' 


Vernon  Grove.  77 

"  God  of  the  heavens !  from  our  bosoms  blow 

The  sin-leaves,  and  plant  flowers 
Bedewed  by  gentlest  rains,  that  they  may  show, 
How  tended  by  thy  love  alone  they  grow, 
God  of  these  golden  hours !" 

Gradually  Vernon's  face  was  turned  away  from  Sybil's 
view,  for  he  did  not  care  that  she  should  see  what  was 
impressed  thereon.  Interest,  and  wonder  at  the  correct 
collocation  of  words,  had  given  place  to  a  softened  mood, 
which  moistened  his  eves  and  busied  his  mind  in  retro- 
spection, and  the  words, 

"  Renew  thy  strength ;  be  fresh ;  be  pure ;  desire 
To  be  new-touched  with  purifying  fire, 
That  Evil's  growth  depart," 

woke  a  strange  chord  of  yearning  in  his  breast,  to  be 
pure,  and  fresh,  and  strong.  Words  were  not  at  his 
command  just  yet,  and  after  a  minute's  pause  he  turned 
to  speak,  to  criticise  the  verses,  as  Sybil  seemed  to  be 
waiting  for  praise  or  blame,  but  his  intention  was 
interrupted  by  the  words,  "hush,  hush,"  and  Sybil's 
moving  nearer  to  him  and  checking  him  with  a  cautious 
whisper. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Vernon,"  she  said  in  the  same  guarded 
voice,  "  if  you  could  only  see  it,  only  see  the  bird  that 
lias  alighted  on  one  of  the  arches!  It  cannot  belong  to 
our  woods  at  all,  for  I  have  never  beheld  another  like  it. 
So  bright  and  gorgeous  is  it,  as  the  sun  glances  upon  it 
while  it  peacefully  folds  its  wings,  that  one  can  scarcely 
help  fancying  that  it  is  the  guardian  angel  of  this  spot, 
or  some  spirit  in  disguise  watching  over  the  dead." 

"  Oh !"  whispered  Vernon,  in  return,  the  excitement 


78  Vernon  Grove. 

of  a  sportsman  shining  on  his  face,  "a  bird,  did  you  say, 
not  common  to  these  woods !  Oh,  for  one  moment's 
sight  to  these  blind  eyes !  Sybil,  child,  run  noiselessly 
to  John  and  bid  him  bring  hither  his  loaded  gun  ;  I  had 
forgotten  for  an  instant  what  a  good  marksman  he  is, 
and  that  he  never  misses  aim." 

Sybil's  face  flushed  for  shame,  and  she  stood  rooted 
to  the  spot.  What !  kill  that  bird  that  .like  an  angel  of 
peace  stood  poised  above  them ;  never,  while  she  could 
prevent  it.  Kill  it  for  a  mere  sportsman's  love  of  game 
or  an  idle  curiosity !  the  thought  was  desecration,  and 
her  spirit  grew  bold  in  the  exigency. 

"  You  would  not,  you  could  not  kill  that  bird,"  she 
said  with  passionate  pleading,  "  it  seems  as  if  it  were 
never  made  to  die,  at  least  by  hand  of  man ;  never  did 
a  king  wear  such  a  jewelled  crown  as  its  glittering  crest. 
To  kill  it  would  be  wanton  cruelty,  and  would,  in  my 
estimation,  gratify  no  feeling  but  a  base  and  unworthy 
one." 

"  You  speak  as  if  you  were  the  special  protectress  of 
the  bird,"  said  Vernon  in  low  smothered  tones,  and  in 
his  turn  excited ;  "  because  it  is  so  beautiful  and  pecu- 
liar, is  the  very  reason  why  I  must  and  will  have  it." 

Must  and  will!  Sybil  trembled  for  the  unconscious 
creature. 

"Think  of  the  holy  place,"  she  whispered  again) 
glancing  around,  "  of  that  solemn  church,  of  these 
graves,  of  the  little  children  sleeping  around ;  think  of 
this  home  of  Death  desecrated  by  an  unholy  sound,  pol- 
luted by  a  senseless  act!  Oh,  Mr.  Veraon,  call  it 
romance  if  you  will,  ridicule  it,  pour  upon  me  your 
anger  and  indignation,  but  for  this  time  grant  me  my 


Vernon  Grove.  79 

wish  and  spare  that  feeble  life.  There,  thank  heaven,  it 
lifts  its  wings  as  if  about  to  fly,  and  will  soon  be  safe 
from  your  cruelty ;  but  no,  it  only  turns  its  beautiful 
arched  neck  to  the  sunlight,  and  pleads  for  life  and 
liberty  with  a  song." 

Truly  Vernon's  evil  spirit  was  in  the  ascendant,  and 
a  demon  seemed  to  urge  him  on.  Thrusting  Sybil  has- 
tily but  gently  away,  he  arose,  and  in  a  subdued  but 
audible  voice,  called  to  his  servant,  who  was  at  some 
distance,  to  load  his  gun  and  hasten  thither. 

Then  a  storm  of  anger  shook  Sybil's  slight  frame. 
Her  will,  "  full  statured,"  showed  itself  in  her  lightning 
glance.  Fiercely  the  fire  of  scorn  flashed  from  her  eyes, 
and  her  words  dropped  like  hot  lava  upon  a  plain. 

"  Mr.  Vernon,"  she  said,  imperatively,  taking  a  strange 
sort  of  pleasure  in  uttering  the  scorn  that  welled  in  such 
an  endless  stream  to  her  lips,  "  Mr.  Vernon,  it  has  come 
to  this  ;  you  have  taken  your  resolution,  7",  mine.  That 
bird  shall  not  die,  shall  not  be  wantonly  destroyed,  and 
the  moment  that  sees  John  approach  with  loaded  gun 
one  step  this  way,  sees  also  the  bird  frightened  away 
from  his  resting  place  by  me,  floating  far  out  of  the 
reach  of  the  best  marksman's  aim." 

"  How  dare  you  thwart  my  will  ?"  returned  he  pas- 
sionately, "  how  dare  you  put  your  weak  child-nature 
in  opposition  to  mine  ?" 

"  I  dare,"  she  said,  her  heart  beating  wildly  and  her 
voice  trembling  with  the  storm  that  had  shaken  her, 
"  because  I  think  that  I  am  in  the  right ;  because  the 
bird  is  happy,  and  the  place  holy ;  and  again  I  dare," 
said  she,  in  softened  accents,  "because  what  a  sister 
could  say  to  a  brother,  that  alone  have  I  said  to  you." 


80  Vernon  Grove. 

Then  she  put  her  slight  hand  kindly  in  between  Ver- 
non's  clenched  fingers  in  a  caressing  way,  not  knowing 
whether  he  would  let  it  remain  or  rudely  cast  it  away, 
but  her  silent  prayer  was  heard,  and  it  lay  not  rejected, 
but  safe  under  that  broad  strong  palm,  like  a  nestling 
under  the  parent-bird's  wing. 

But  ah,  who  could  turn  away  from  Sybil's  offered 
hand !  Vernon  did  not,  but  crushing  it  softly  in  his,  he 
said  gently,  "  You  have  conquered ;  my  little  sister  has 
conquered  a  proud,  rough,  unfeeling  man,  who  came 
well  nigh  forgetting  in  his  madness  a  promise  which 
he  called  upon  heaven  to  witness.  Let  the  bird  live !" 

Sybil  looked  up  as  he  spoke,  but  it  was  no  longer 
upon  the  broken  arch.  Soaring  far,  far  away,  she 
beheld  it  till  it  was  lost  to  sight  in  the  cloudless  sky, 
its  mission  over  that  ruined  church,  whatever  it  might 
have  been,  being  accomplished. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

"  Like  an  enfranchised  bird,  who  wildly  springs, 

"With  a  keen  sparkle  in  his  glancing  eye, 
And  a  strong  effort  in  his  quivering  wings, 
Up  to  the  blue  vault  of  the  happy  sky — 
So  my  enamored  heart  so  long  thine  own, 

At  length  from  Love's  imprisonment  set  free, 
Goes  forth  into  the  open  world  alone, 
Glad  and  exulting  in  its  liberty." 

MRS.  NORTON. 

"  Hopes  and  fears. 

Start  up  alarmed,  and  o'er  life's  narrow  verge, 
Look  down — on  what  ?  a  fathomless  abyss." 

YOUNG. 

SYBIL  bought  her  triumph  of  will  at  a  dear  price,  it 
would  seem,  for  Vernon  was  moody  and  silent  during 
the  homeward  ride,  and  for  a  week  scarcely  noticed  her 
music  or  the  progress  she  was  making  in  her  studies. 
She  tried  two  or  three  times  to  break  the  gloomy  spell 
around  him  by  uttering  some  playful  remark,  or  trilling 
a  bird-like  song,  but  all  was  to  no  purpose.  She  felt 
that  they  were  widely  severed  in  disposition,  purpose, 
and  thought,  and  that  he  had  asked  her  an  impossible 
thing  when  he  desired  she  might  be  his  sister,  for  to  a 
sister  a  brother's  heart  was  open,  but  against  her  he 
had  closed  his  with  an  impenetrable  barrier  of  reserve 
and  coldness. 

As  for  Vernon,  he  scarcely  knew  himself  the  cause  of 
4* 


82  Vernon  Grove. 

liis  gloomy  or  rather  thoughtful  mood,  but  rested  upon 
the  idea  that  it  was  a  phase  which  would  pass  away 
with  a  change  of  weather.  If  any  one  had  told  him  that 
he  was  thoughtful,  because  a  child  had  stirred  the  stag- 
nant waters  of  his  soul  by  speaking  truths  to  him  which 
he  had  never  dwelt  upon,  or  thought  of  at  all,  except 
vaguely, — had  any  one  told  him  that  the  self-examination 
with  which  he  was  probing  his  spirit  originated  in  the 
conversation  of  Sybil  and  the  religious  tenor  of  her 
verses,  he  would  have  been  startled  at  the  idea.  He, 
the  selfish  man,  tried  in  vain  to  shake  off  the  master 
spirit  of  thought  that  merged  at  length  into  severe  self- 
investigation, — but  heaven  has  many  ways  of  sowing  the 
good  seed ;  the  wind  may  blow  it,  or  it  may  drop  by 
chance  upon  the  ground, — not  that  Vernon's  soul  was 
ready  for  the  planting,  for  hardened  by  frost  and  ice,  it 
opened  not  yet  to  the  sower.  It  was  this  unsatisfactory 
state  of  things,  and  the  knowledge  of  it  in  part,  that  kept 
him  cold  towards  others  and  discontented  with  himself. 

A  letter  from  Linwood  at  last  broke  the  spell,  and  as 
Vernon  handed  it  to  Sybil  to  read  to  him,  one  of  his 
old  rare  smiles  overspread  his  countenance,  for  his  love 
for  his  absent  friend  was  one  of  the  bright  spots  in  his 
character. 

Sybil  drew  back  as  he  pressed  the  letter  upon  her 
and  hesitated. 

"Should  I,  ought  I,  to  read  it?"  she  asked,  "Mr. 
Linwood  is  a  stranger  to  me,  and  there  may  be  some- 
thing in  his  letter  which  I  ought  not  to  see." 

"  You  misjudge  Linwood,"  answered  Vernon  warmly, 
"he  has  a  mind  as  pure  as  a  child's,  and  you  will  find 
nothing  unworthy  in  what  he  has  written." 


Vernon  Grove.  83 

"  I  did  not  mean  that?  replied  Sybil  blushing,  "  I 
only  imagined  that  he  might  deem  me  prying  or  officious, 
for  a  letter  from  friend  to  friend  is  a  sacred  thing." 

"  In  that  case,"  answered  Vernon,  "  I  promise  to  be 
peacemaker,  but  pray  do  not  keep  me  in  suspense  any 
longer,  I  am  anxious  to  hear  what  he  has  written." 

Thus  urged,  Sybil  demurred  no  longer,  fearing  a 
return  of  Vemon's  displeasure  and  consequent  coldness, 
and  opening  the  letter,  which  was  post-marked  Florence, 
she  thus  began : — 

"DEAR  VERNON: 

"  As  you  i'eared  never  to  become  accustomed  to  the  necessary  third 
person,  you  made  me  promise  to  write  to  you  only  in  extreme  cases 
— that  is,  if  I  ever  found  myself  supremely  happy  or  supremely  miser- 
able ;  as  the  former  sensation  is  pre-eminently  in  the  ascendant  now, 
I  can  refrain  no  longer  from  imparting  to  you  some  of  my  experiences, 
and  from  telling  you  how,  each  day,  a  prayer  ascends  from  my  heart 
to  heaven  for  the  welfare  of  my  generous  friend. 

"  You  have  opened  to  me  a  new  field  of  beauty,  such  as  I  never 
dreamed  of,  both  in  the  province  of  art  and  nature.  My  eyes  feast  on 
loveliness,  my  heart  beats  with  fuller  pulsations  than  in  my  own  land. 
I  feel  that  I  am  treading  on  enchanted  ground,  and  associations  from 
the  past  come  thronging  in  endless  procession  from  the  chambers  of 
my  brain.  Oh,  Vernon,  to  have  seen  the  Lake  of  Como,  the  Cathedrals, 
the  Laocoon,  St.  Peter's,  and  the  paintings  and  statuary  in  the  old 
world,  is  to  have  lived  no  ordinary  life. 

"  I  might  go  on  enumerating  the  beauties  which  arise  on  every  side, 
but  I  know  that  with  you  it  would  be  familiar  ground,  and  might 
weary  you,  still  I  could  not  help  feeling  that  you  ought  to  have  a 
realizing  sense  of  my  deep  thankfulness,  and  it  is  for  this  merely  that 
I  write  to  you. 

"  When  I  think  of  your  sympathy,  which  will  meet  me  on  my 
return  when  we  can  talk  over  my  experiences,  I  am  doubly  grateful 
to  God  that  you  were  permitted  to  see  this  world-wide  panorama  of 
wonders,  and  that  you  have  travelled  from  snow-crowned  Russia  to 


84  Vernon  Grove. 

the  vineyards  of  beautiful  Spain.  Even  in  your  blindness  you  could 
never  be  entirely  lonely,  for  after  a  visit  to  Europe  memory  would 
ever  be  a  busy  companion. 

"  To  me  this  living  in  the  past  is  enchanting,  and  of  course  to  the 
artist-mind  the  enjoyment  is  double.  It  seems  to  me,  too,  that  I 
would  never  have  cared  to  journey  abroad,  unless  I  had  received  a 
refined  education,  so  that  I  might  appreciate  every  classical  allusion, 
and  feel  at  home  in  history.  There  are  men  around  me  now,  ignorant, 
soulless  men,  in  whom  the  curves  of  an  exquisite  piece  of  sculpture 
rouse  no  feeling  of  admiration,  whose  eyes  see  no  glory  in  an  Italian 
sunset,  who  travel  merely  because  it  is  fashionable,  and  in  whom  no 
grateful  religious  thought  is  awakened.  False  men  are  they,  Vernon ; 
and,  oh,  if  I  could  only  sit  by  you  for  an  hour,  I  could  tell  you  how  the 
sight  of  all  this  beauty,  natural  and  artistic,  appeals  to  my  religious 
nature,  and  how  my  heart  beats  more  fervently  to  God  and  man,  and 
my  whole  soul  is  bared  to  receive  divine  influences  from  heaven.  No, 
I  have  not  come  here,  even  as  regards  my  spiritual  welfare,  in  vain. 

"  I  have  painted  one  work  since  my  arrival  in  Florence,  which  the 
critics  honor  me  by  praising  very  much.  It  is  an  ideal,  my  ideal  of  a 
perfectly  beautiful  woman,  and  I  call  it  my  Inspiration.  Need  I  tell 
you,  my  friend,  that  I  mean  it  to  be  yours  when  I  return  ?  Would 
that  you  could  see  it,  and  criticise  it,  for  upon  your  judgment  I  have 
ever  depended ;  but  I  will  not  murmur,  for  I  believe  that  all  of  God's 
dispensations  are  for  the  best. 

"  Send  me  a  line  through  your  amanuensis,  if  you  do  not  incline  to 
forward  a  longer  communication,  and  tell  me  something  of  your  welfare, 
— if  you  are  still  in  the  country,  and  whether  you  have  any  compa- 
nions. 

"  Yours,  in  ah1  sincerity, 

"ALBERT  LlXWOOD." 

"  I  should  like  to  know  him,"  said  Sybil  quietly,  as  she 
refolded  the  letter. 

"  And  why  ?  »  asked  Vernon. 

As  a  man  of  the  world  Vernon  had  used  that  little 
monosyllable  with  great  effect ;  it  had  been  more  pow- 
erful than  many  words,  and  joined  with  a  sympathizing 


Vernon  Grove.  85 

look  of  interest  in  his  fine  eyes,  had  extracted  many  a 
confession  which  would  otherwise  have  remained  unre- 
vealcd,  and  now  the  force  of  habit  led  him  to  use  it  still. 
There  is  often  magic  in  one  word,  calling  out  many  in 
answer. 

"Because,"  was  the  reply,  "it  seems  to  me  that  I 
would  like  to  talk  to  him,  and  tell  him  of  my  faults ;  still 
better,  too,  would  I  love  to  hear  him  speak  of  that  religion 
which  he  prizes  so  much.  Ah,  if  he  had  sisters,  how 
happy  they  must  be." 

What  an  incentive  was  this  to  any  one  who  loved 
Sybil,  to  be  worthy  in  her  eyes. 

"  It  is  worth  the  trying,"  thought  Vernon ;  but  think- 
ing on  his  part,  in  the  present  instance,  was  far  from 
acting. 

Not  many  days  after  this,  Vernon  summoned  Sybil 
to  his  side,  and  told  her  that  the  time  had  arrived  when 
she  could  be  really  useful  to  him,  and  that  he  had  some 
work  for  her  to  do ;  he  wanted  her  to  answer  Linwood's 
letter.  Such  an  appeal  she  could  not  escape  from,  and 
she  sat  down  and  wrote  under  his  direction  the  following 
words : — 

"You  are  astonished,  dear  Albert,  at  this  ladylike  hand- writing, 
instead  of  John's  bold  chirography,  but  'tis  only  little  Sybil  Gray's, 
who  writes  at  my  dictation,  therefore  be  mystified  no  longer.  Now, 
Sybil  is  the  granddaughter  of  my  mother's  early  friend,  Mrs.  Gordon, 
both  of  whom  have,  at  my  invitation,  made  my  house  their  home. 
Mrs.  Gordon,  when  her  health  allows  her,  is  an  admirable  manager  in 
my  bachelor  establishment,  and  Sybil  has  masters,  gathers  flowers, 
dresses  the  vases,  and,  as  you  see,  writes  for  the  dismal  blind  gentleman. 

"  I  cannot  express  to  you  how  much  pleasure  your  letter  gave  me, 
and  now  that  I  have  Sybil  as  writer  and  reader  of  our  correspondence, 
lot  me  hear  frcm  you  often, — and  do  not  be  particular  about  the 


86  Vernon  Grove. 

number  of  your  sheets,  for  the  dear  child's  good  nature  will  bear  her 
through  them  all,  even  if  their  name  were  legion. 

"  You  ask  me  about  myself;  I  think,  I  know  that  I  am  happier  than 
when  you  were  here.  I  can  trace  this  change  to  no  particular  cause, 
yet  on  the  whole  I  enjoy  life  more,  human  nature  seems  better,  and  I 
am  not  quite  the  worldling  that  you  left  me.  I  begin  to  be  reconciled 
in  some  slight  degree  to  my  misfortune,  and  sometimes,  remember, 
Linwood,  only  sometimes,  I  even  bring  myself  to  regard  it  as  a  blessing 
— for,  had  I  still  retained  my  sight  after  that  terrible  fever,  I  might 
have  remained  in  the  city,  constantly  in  the  presence  of  her  whom  I 
have  by  this  means  avoided ;  and  so  weak  is  the  human  heart,  that  even 
knowing  what  she  is — even  having  seen  her  unmasked — her  wonderful 
beauty  and  fascination  might  have  bound  me  to  her  prisoner  for  life, 
whereas  there  is  now  no  danger  in  absence, — and,  oh,  Linwood,  reflect 
upon  the  almost  hell  upon  earth  that  I  should  have  endured  had 
I  passed  my  life" 

Sybil  made  a  movement  that  arrested  Vernon's  words 
— she  rose  from  the  table  and  laid  down  her  pen.  She 
was  embarrassed  beyond  measure;  she  thought  that 
Vernon  had  lost  sight  of  the  fact  that  she  was  writing, 
and  not  he  himself;  and  she  was  an  unwilling  listener  to 
the  secrets  of  that  proud  heart,  and  interrupted  him  by 
reminding  him  that  his  letter  was  too  much  of  a  personal 
nature  for  her  to  continue  writing  it.  "  You  forget,  that 
I  know  nothing,"  she  began, — but  she  was  not  allowed 
to  proceed,  for  Vernon  silenced  her  with  words  which 
rendered  her  mute. 

''  Xo,  Sybil,  I  do  not  forget  anything;  an  irresistible 
impulse  leads  me  to  tell  you  that  part  of  my  life's  history, 
which  I  have  more  than  once  alluded  to  in  your  presence, 
and  to  which  you  are  a  stranger.  I  know  not  why  it  is 
that  I  thus  make  you  the  confidant  of  my  mosfr  sacred 
experiences ;  I  know  not  if  your  eyes  are  gentle  and 


Vernon  Grove.  87 

compassionate, — and  yet  they  must  be,  Sybil ;  I  know 
not  why  I  am  led  to  unfold  my  inner  nature  to  the 
scrutiny  of  a  young  girl  who  knows  nothing  of  the 
world  and  its  passions, — but  it  would  seem  that  a  kind 
of  fate,  from  which  there  is  no  escape,  drives  me  on,  and 
it  is  your  destiny  to  listen." 

"  Florence  Percy,"  he  continued,  after  a  slight  pause, 
"  is  my  sister's  dearest  friend  ;  it  was  natural  then,  that 
with  such  a  tie  between  them,  I  should  be  constantly 
thrown  into  her  society.  She  was  an  orphan  with  no 
one  to  guide  her  but  an  aunt,  whose  life  was  one  tissue 
of  fashionable  folly.  When  I  say  that  Florence  Avas  a 
fit  scholar  for  so  apt  a  teacher,  I  exaggerate  nothing ; 
but  unaware  of  her  faults  at  the  time  when  I  first  made 
her  acquaintance,  her  beauty — which  is  fitting  for  a 
queen — and  her  winning  manners,  captivated  me,  and 
made  me  her  willing  slave.  The  old  proverb  says,  that 
'  Love  is  blind,'  but  more  blind  than  I  am  now  bodily 

was  I  to  her  defects;  mad  and  blind  until, but  I 

will  not  anticipate,  Sybil,  you  shall  hear  the  story  from 
beginning  to  end. 

"  Florence  was  poor  and  yet  she  loved  wealth  better 
than  life  itself;  '  rather  die,'  I  doivbt  not  was  her  motto, 
'  than  be  deprived  of  certain  luxuries  and  comforts.'  To 
struggle  to  keep  up  appearances  was  her  one  great  object, 
and  she  was  determined  that  her  impoverished  and 
aristocratic  race  should  yet  flourish  through  her  means 
among  the  wealthy  of  the  land. 

"  She  chose  me,  then,  as  her  instrument,  her  victim, — 
and  threw  her  wiles  around  my  unsuspecting  nature. 
I  need  not  tell  you  that  I  am  rich,  you  must  see  it  by  the 
style  in  which  I  live,  by  my  retinue  of  servants,  and  my 


88  Vernoh  Grove. 

lavish  expenditure  of  money,  and  she  knew  it — knew  my 
income,  and  laid  her  plans. 

"  We  met  almost  daily  in  my  sister's  house,  and  as  it 
was  her  great  ambition  that  Florence  and  I  should  even- 
tually be  married,  we  had  many  opportunities  of  becoming 
conversant  with  each  other's  tastes  and  opinions.  Isabel 
loved  and  loves  Florence  Avith  a  blind  infatuation  which 
is  second  only  to  Avhat  mine  was,  although  I  must  do 
her  the  justice  to  say,  that  she  never  knew  the  extent  of 
the  plot  laid  by  her  fascinating  friend. 

"  When  I  look  back  upon  that  eventful  period  of  my 
life,  it  seems  to  me  that  I  must  have  been  living  in  a 
dream  not  to  have  discovered  the  base  motives  which 
actuated  the  conduct  of  Florence.  Affection  for  me 
she  had  not ;  'cold,  passionless,  calculating,  I  scarcely 
think  that  any  one  could  inspire  her  with  love,  and  yet 
what  a  masterpiece  of  acting  was  her  feigned  joy  in  my 
presence,  while  she  had  but  one  passion ;  to  that  she 
bowed  as  a  heathen  to  his  idol,  and  that  passion  was  to 
lift  the  fallen  fortunes  of  the  Percy  family. 

"  I  have  sometimes  in  my  earlier  years  dreamed  that 
I  might  be  loved — dreamed  of  a  home  where  a  gentle 
wife,  with  loving  children  at  her  feet,  would  greet  me  at 
my  fireside ;  that  that  home  would  be  little  short  of  a 
heaven,  while  Florence  Percy  would  be  the  angel  of  my 
Paradise ;  but,  alas !  how  was  I  mistaken  !  Sybil,  look 
at  me,  is  there  anything  chilling  or  repulsive  about  me  ? 
Now,  indeed,  there  may  be  with  these  closed  sightless 
eyes, — but  fancy  me  in  the  prime  of  youth  and  health, 
with  a  happy  buoyant  temperament,  think  you  not  that 
then  I  might  have  inspired  love  ?" 

He  waited  not  for  Sybil's  answer,  but  hurried  on. 


Vernon  Grove.  89 

"  I  remember  the  time  when  the  truth  first  came  to  me, 
— not  with  the  crash  of  a  storm,  crushing  me  with  its 
suddenness, — but  with  only  a  certain  foreshadowing  of 
evil.  We  were  not  publicly  engaged,  the  word  had  not 
been  quite  spoken,  for  we  were  waiting  for  her  aunt's 
return  from  Europe  to  sanction  our  love,  but  she  expected 
the  question  to  be  asked  which  would  make  her  my 
betrothed,  and  I  intended  it.  I  had  told  her,  however, 
that  I  loved  hei-,  and  I  had  heard  the  blessed  words  that 
I  was  in  return  beloved  by  her ;  I  had  pictured  our  future 
home,  where,  not  the  least  among  the  changes  that  were 
to  happen  to  me,  I  was  to  become,  under  her  guidance,  a 
useful  pious  man.  She  had  received  many  presents 
from  my  hands  of  great  value,  and  had  worn  dia- 
monds which  were  my  gift.  In  the  meantime  our 
mornings  were  spent  together,  and  our  evenings  in 
the  round  of  amusements  that  a  crowded  city  always 
affords. 

"  One  day  we  were  seated  in  Isabel's  luxurious  parlor, 
with  the  light  of  the  room  softened  to  that  mellow  shade 
which  is  so  becoming  to  a  complexion  like  hers,  and  I 
had  never  seen  the  beauty  of  Florence  displayed  to  such 
advantage ;  I  even  mutely  thanked  God  for  the  creation 
of  such  wondrous  perfection,  and  that  I  was  permitted 
to  behold  it.  I  have  not  told  you  that  she  was  a  clear 
brunette,  and  that  the  crowning  grace  to  her  fair  face  was 
a  rich  glowing  color  on  her  cheeks,  which  gave  additional 
lustre  to  her  superb  eyes.  On  the  morning  of  which  I 
am  speaking,  she  was  dressed  simply,  yet  carefully,  while 
her  glossy  dark  hair,  unadorned,  was  to  me  more  beautiful 
than  if  encircled  with  a  diadem  of  brilliants.  In  passing 
I  must  mention  that  her  dress  usually  was  anything  but 


90  Vernon  Grove. 

simple,  for  her  love  of  display  showed  itself  forcible  in 
her  toilet  arrangements. 

"Her  quiet  morning  robe,  with  its  loose  hanging 
sleeves,  disclosed  an  arm  which  was  faultless  in  its  pro- 
portions,— and  as  she  held  it  towards  me  that  I  might 
clasp  around  it  a  ruby  bracelet  of  curious  workmanship, 
her  eyes, — ah,  those  glorious  eyes — beamed  with  the 
light  of  what  I  thought  was  love — deep,  unchangeable, 
grateful  love  to  the  donor,  but  which  circumstances 
have  showed  to  be  only  the  love  of  gems  and  of  display. 

"  Lovers  are  proverbially  eloquent,  and  I  was  pictur- 
ing to  her  how  her  aifection  brightened  my  life,  and  how 
I  wished  that  all  our  days  might  be  as  tranquil  and 
happy  as  that  which  was  passing,  when  she  whispered 
in  return  that  it  would  be  the  study  of  her  existence  to 
make  me  happy,  and  that  she  had  no  wish  in  life  which 
was  not  breathed  in  reference  to  me  !  Emboldened  by 
this  delicious  confession,  I  told  her  playfully  that  I  would 
put  her  upon  trial,  and  then  altering  my  tone  to  a  serious 
one,  I  remarked  that  she  had  it  in  her  power  to  grant 
me  a  favor, — a  speck  in  comparison  with  the  sacrifices 
of  a  lifetime.  It  was  only  this, — that,  instead  of  attend- 
ing a  famous  ball  which  was  to  be  given  in  the  evening, 
she  would  spend  the  hours  at  home  quietly  with  me. 

"An  almost  imperceptible  frown  passed  over  her 
brow  as  I  said  these  simple  and  not  very  exacting  words ; 
but  the  smile  that  succeeded  was  more  brilliant  for  the 
sudden  shadow  that  had  preceeded  it,  and  with  all  the 
apparent  love  of  a  loving  heart  gathered  in  her  earnest 
eyes,  which  looked  straight  into  mine,  as  I  knelt  before 
her,  with  her  lips  all  rosy  in  their  freshness,  and  her 
voice  tender  with  affectionate  words,  she  bent  towards 


Vernon  Grove.  91 

me,  and  laying  her  perfect  hand  upon  mine,  promised 
what  I  had  asked. 

"  Just  then  Isabel  entered  from  a  walk,  glowing  with 
health  and  excitement,  and  full  of  some  important  intel- 
ligence. I  can  scarcely  think  that  she  meant  to  pain  me 
by  what  followed,  and  I  can  attribute  her  words  only  to 
that  fearful  proclivity  which  women  have  to  making  con- 
quests, and  in  having  those  in  whom  they  are  interested 
count  their  triumphs  in  numbers. 

" '  I  have  glorious  news  for  you,  Florence,'  she  said, 
*  you  have  gained  another  conquest  by  that  queenly 
beauty  of  yours ;  you  have  made  Lord  Cummings  your 
slave  for  life.  He  could  talk  of  nothing  else  this  mom- 
ing  but  your  superb  air,  your  divine  eyes,  and  the  mid- 
night gleaming  of  your  ebon  locks.  To  be  sure,  it  is  in 
rather  a  vulgar  way  that  he  swears  you  are  an  angel, 
but  that  we  must  excuse  in  a  titled  man;  by-the-by, 
with  a  little  French  expletive,  he  made  me  promise  to 
take  you  to  Mrs.  Maitland's  to-night,  and  you  must  go,' 
— then  turning  to  me  as  I  made  a  gesture  of  impatience, 
she  continued :  '  Now,  Richard,  for  shame,  I  verily 
believe  you  are  jealous ;  my  lord  is  awkward,  you  are 
refined  and  graceful ;  my  lord  is  a  fright,  and  you,  you 
know,  are  a  beauty;'  then  \varbling  a  lively  air,  she 
threw  herself  at  the  feet  of  Florence  in  a  beseeching  atti- 
tude. 

"I  was  jealous,  maddened, — but  I  kept  silence  and 
waited  for  the  result,  incensed  against  the  presumptuous 
stranger,  but  secure  in  the  constancy  of  my  peerless 
Florence,  upon  whom  I  gazed,  almost  sure  of  her  reply. 
What  had  transformed  her  so  ?  Her  cheeks  glowed 
with  a  crimson  which  I  had  never  yet  seen  kindled 


92  Vernon  Grove. 

there ;  her  eyes  sparkled  with  delight,  and  she  uttered 
a  joyous  exclamation ;  then,  as  if  remembering  herself, 
she  said  to  Isabel,  '  But  it  is  not  so  easy  to  meet  him  at 
Mrs.  Haitian d's,  for  I  have  just  promised  Richard  to 
stay  at  home  with  him, — Darby  and  Joan  fashion  !' 

" '  Should  you  indeed  like  to  go  ?'  I  said  calmly, 
though  with  a  volcano  raging  within  my  heart.  '  If  you 
would,  pray  do  not  consider  yourself  bound  to  me,  and 
do  not  let  a  whim  of  mine  keep  you  at  home.' 

"  '  Oh,  if  it  is  only  a  whim,'  she  returned,  twisting  my 
bracelet-gift  upon  her  arm  with  her  long  slender  fingers 
that  she  might  examine  it  more  minutely,  '  then  I  would 
like  to  go.' 

" '  As  you  please,'  said  I  coldly, — and  she  went !  and 
so  the  first  link  was  broken, — and  so,  at  length,  were  all. 
Yes,  she  went  to  the  ball  and  met  my  Lord  Cummiiigs. 
His  fortune,  the  world  said,  doubled  mine;  he  wore 
finer  diamonds ;  he  sported  carriages  and  horses  unequal- 
led in  the  land ;  he  paid  his  court  to  the  queenly  beauty, 
and  was  accepted.  It  was  then,  that  with  a  constitution 
predisposed,  by  the  excitement  under  which  I  labored, 
to  fever,  I  was  taken  ill  with  an  epidemic  which  was 
raging,  and  which,  though  it  affected  many  only  slightly, 
prostrated  me  almost  to  the  grave,  and  left  me  blind, 
with  no  hope  of  restoration  to  sight. 

"  After  my  recovery  from  this  illness,  many  friends 
came  kindly  to  break  the  monotony  of  my  darkened 
chamber,  and  among  others  a  young  man,  who  had  been 
sported  with  awhile  by  Miss  Percy,  and  then  rejected. 
This  man  I  know  to  be  true,  and  partly  in  bitterness  of 
spirit — but  chiefly  in  revenge  for  the  treatment  he  had 
received,  for  men  are  affected  differently  by  a  rejection, 


Vernon  Grove.  93 

some  turning  to  melancholy,  some  maddened  and  reck- 
less, and  others  careless  and  light-hearted  still — he,  in 
revenge,  and  ignorant  of  my  attachment  to  Florence, 
told  me,  wantonly  and  only  to  show  her  off  in  the  worst 
possible  light,  of  a  speech  that  he  had  heard  her  make  ; 
it  wras  this,  mark  it,  Sybil,  and  it  will  be  a  key  to  the 
character  of  the  woman  who  might  have  been  my  wife : 
'  Well,  what  matters  it  ?  Though  he  has  lost  his  sight, 
he  has  not  lost  his  fortune !' 

"  From  that  moment  my  love  turned  into  scorn,  my 
scorn  to  indifference.  You  may  like  to  hear  the  sequel ; 
my  Lord  Cummings  proved  to  be  an  adventurer,  a  fortune- 
hunter,  and  he  had  mistaken  Florence  for  a  cousin  of 
hers  who  was  an  heiress.  When  he  found  out  his  mis- 
take, he  disappeared  no  one  knows  whither,  and  Florence 
was  left  to  her  own  wholesome  reflections.  Since  then 
she  has  not  been  much  sought  in  society ;  but  still  her 
glorious  beauty  remains  to  dazzle  a  few  lingering  wor- 
shippers, who,  however,  have  the  misfortune  to  be  too 
poor  to  be  rewarded  by  her  hand. 

"  I  have  not  met  her  since  her  engagement  to 
Gumming,  but  strange  to  say,  Isabel  is  devoted  to  her, 
and  even  dreams  of  her  being  my  wife  and  her  sister ; 
and  she  in  her  turn  repays  Isabel  by  her  admiration  and 
flattery. 

"  I  have  suffered,  you  see,  Sybil,  almost  more  than 
my  share,  and  you  must  bear  with  my  mood  when  you 
think  that  I  am  morose  and  gloomy ;  sometimes,  indeed, 
I  may  be  both  naturally,  but  oftener  that  selfish  depres- 
sion of  spirits  under  which  you  see  me  laboring,  is  the 
memory  of  the  past,  rising  up  in  wave  after  wave  of 
bitter  feeling,  which  will  not  be  stilled  by  any  endeavor 


94  Vernon  Grove. 

on  my  part.  You  wished  the  other  clay  for  some  mis- 
fortune, some  temptation  to  ripple  the  calm  current  of 
your  days.  Oh,  Sybil,  you  know  not  what  you  asked. 
But  I  am  sure  that  you  need  no  experience  in  suffering 
in  order  to  make  you  feel  for  others,  and  sympathise 
with  them  in  their  sorrows, — and  the  thought  of  this  is 
why  I  disclose  mine  to  you." 

Sybil  drew  a  long  breath,  and  the  tears  came  into  her 
eyes;  she  had  wept  over  romances  often,  but  here, 
before  her,  was  a  man  who  had  loved  and  suffered ;  here 
wras  something  real,  something  that  she  knew  was  true, 
and  she  looked  pityingly  upon  one  who  had  now  in  her 
eyes  assumed  the  dignity  of  a  hero.  She  longed  to  show 
him  in  some  way  how  truly  she  felt  for  him  in  his 
double  bereavement,  but  knew  not  how. 

"Sybil,  tell  me,"  asked  Vernon  anxiously,  "is  not 
mine  a  tale  of  many  sorrows  ?  Come  near  me,  and  say 
to  me  that  you  think  that  I  am  not  to  be  disappointed 
in  you,  too.  I  wrant  no  maledictions  showered  upon  the 
head  of  Florence  Percy ;  I  care  not  even  to  bring  to 
mind  the  thought  of  her  terrible  retribution,  or  that 
Dante  has  placed  in  the  '  lowest  deep  of  the  lowest  deep ' 
those  who  have  betrayed  trust :  only  speak  to  me, — say 
one  word  of  comfort,  one  earnest  word.  Sybil,  friend, 
sister,  fail  me  not  now,  but  give  me  what  I  need  more 
than  parched  traveller  a  cooling  draught, — give  me  your 
sympathy." 

Sybil  rose  and  approached  him  where  he  sat,  and  then 
with  no  syllable  of  comfort  but  with  a  heavy  sob  and 
shower  of  tears  upon  his  outstretched  hands,  she  wept 
because  he  had  suffered  so  ;  and  Vernon  was  grateful  for 
those  tears,  and  understood  their  meaning  almost  better 


Vernon  Grove.  95 

than  if  they  had  been  words.  He  had  never  seen  Flo- 
rence weep, — her  artificial  nature  had  never  been  thus 
moved,  and  he  knew  that  the  fount  of  feeling  which  was 
the  source  of  tears  must  be  deep  indeed. 

"  Poor  child !"  he  said,  as  Sybil  knelt  before  him,  her 
hands  clasped  in  his ;  "  I  did  not  mean  to  move  you  so, 
you  must  weep  no  more, — at  least  not  for  me,  but  you 
must  spare  your  tears  for  your  future  self;  for  suffering 
is  the  condition  under  which  we  live  and  breathe,  and 
you  know  not  what  the  coming  years  may  have  in  store 
for  you." 

But  Sybil  still  wept  on ;  the  sight  of  that  disappointed, 
blind,  forsaken  man,  was  a  deeper  tragedy  than  what 
the  books  ever  told  her  of — a  story  whose  last  page 
ended  very  sadly. 

Then  Vernon  smoothed  back  her  long  luxuriant  hair 
tenderly,  and  drew  her  nearer  to  him  until  he  felt  her 
breath  upon  his  bowed  face,  and  a  passionate  prayer  for 
her  welfare  escaped  from  his  lips.  "  Oh,  God,"  he  said, 
"  spare  her,  shield  her ;  let  not  my  fate  be  hers ;  pour 
upon  me  any  amount  of  suffering,  but  let  misfortune  pass 
her  by,  and,  above  all,  guard  her  against  a  sorrow  such 
as  mine." 

Vernon  prayed — it  was  something  unusual ;  not  indeed 
for  himself  did  he  pray,  but  for  Sybil,  kneeling  before 
him,  her  bright  face  uplifted  to  his,  and  her  hands  fast 
locked  in  his  strong  grasp ;  then  her  voice  broke  the 
silence  which  followed  that  earnest  appeal  to  a  higher 
power,  and  it  came  to  his  ears  like  the  voice  of  an  angel 
answering  his  prayer. 

"  I  would  talce  your  sorrow  from  you,  if  I  could" 
she  said,  "  and  bear  it  for  you." 


96  Vernon  Grove. 

"What  could  mortal  ask  more  than  this,  what  need  had 
he  of  closer  sympathy  ?  Life  could  record  no  instance 
of  greater  sacrifice  than  such  as  she  had  offered. 

"  God,  I  thank  thee,"  he  exclaimed,  while  his  frame 
trembled  at  those  simple  words  from  the  kneeling  girl, 
"  thou  hast  at  last  sent  to  me  what  my  soul  has  most 
needed  through  three  long  dreary  years, — the  gift  of  per- 
fect sympathy."  But  even  as  Vernon  spoke,  a  bright 
crimson  flushed  his  face,  and  a  terrible  revelation  came 
to  him ;  he  loved  her — loved  her  kneeling  and  weeping 
there.  The  truth  came  like  a  knife,  cleaving  heart  and 
brain ;  no  doubt  no  shadow  of  suspicion  of  the  nature 
of  his  feelings  came  to  question  him  as  to  their  sincerity. 
Florence  he  had  loved  for  her  beauty,  and  what  she 
might  have  been  to  him  when  the  gloss  of  fashion  had 
given  place  to  domestic  ties, — but  Sybil  he  loved  for  her- 
self, for  what  she  was.  She  might  be  as  beautiful  as  an 
angel,  or  almost  repulsive  in  appearance ;  these  considera- 
tions did  not  affect  him ;  he  only  saw  the  purity  of  her 
heart  and  loved  her, — ah,  how  fondly,  how  truely,  she 
must  never  know.  He  would  never,  he  said  to  himself, 
be  so  ungenerous  as  to  throw  himself  with  his  blindness 
and  blighted  life,  his  soured  temper  and  uncongenial 
disposition,  upon  her  mercy ;  no,  he  would  not  sacrifice 
upon  the  shrine  of  his  selfishness  that  young  budding 
life,  that  pure  lovely  heart ;  to  keep  his  affection  all 
untold,  to  educate  her,  to  bestow  upon  her  every  grace 
that  wealth  could  bring,  and  then  to  yield  her  calmly  in 
after  years  to  another  with  the  outward  quietness  of  a 
brother,  even  when  there  would  be  a  mad  worship  burn- 
ing on  the  altar  of  his  heart  within,  would  be  the  crown- 
ing suffering  of  his  life,  his  last  terrible  sacrifice. 


Vernon  Grove.  97 

But  love,  love, — man  is  impotent  when  entering  the 
lists  against  thee,  and  what  a  tyrant  thou  art !  Vernon 
struggled  bravely  and  well,  but  there  came  hours  in  that 
long  and  intimate  intercourse  when  his  secret  would  rush 
from  his  heart  to  his  very  lips,  and  only  by  strong  per- 
severing will  be  kept  prisoner  there,  and  each  day  and 
month  grew  with  a  mighty  strength  that  pure  devoted 
passion  for  one  who,  he  had  determined,  should  be  to 
him  for  ever,  as  far  as  word  or  act  of  his  was  concerned, 
only  his  well-beloved  sister,  his  little  Sybil  Gray. 

But  to  return  to  the  systematic  development  of  our 
story.  The  sheet  lay  unfinished  on  the  table ;  with  one 
strong  effort  of  self-control,  he  put  her,  whom  he  longed 
to  clasp  to  his  beating,  lonely,  yearning  heart,  away 
from  him,  and  requested  her  calmly  to  finish  it.  Sybil 
obeyed,  and  wrote  again  at  his  dictation,  folded,  sealed, 
and  directed  the  letter  half  mechanically,  wondered  in 
her  young  and  innocent  heart  at  the  baseness  of  Florence, 
wiped  her  tear-stained  face,  and  then  left  Vernon  to 
attend  to  the  wants  of  her  grandmother. 
5 


CHAPTER  IX. 


in  Italy  ?     Is  this  the  Mincius  ? 
Are  those  the  distant  turrets  of  Verona  ? 
And  shall  I  sup  where  Juliet  at  the  masque 
Saw  her  loved  Montague,  and  now  sleeps  by  him  ? 
Such  questions  hourly  do  I  ask  myself; 
And  not  a  stone,  in  a  cross-way,  inscribed 
'  To  Mantua'  —  '  To  Ferrara'  —  but  excites 
Surprise  and  doubt,  and  self-congratulation. 
0  Italy,  how  beautiful  thou  artl" 

ROGERS. 

SYBIL  saw  with  heart-felt  anguish  that  Mrs.  Gordon 
drooped  daily  more  and  more  ;  she  was,  of  course,  under 
the  care  of  a  physician  who  paid  her  regular  visits,  but 
hers  was  a  decay  of  nature  which  no  physician  could 
heal.  Her  seat  by  the  fireside,  or  by  the  open  window 
in  the  more  genial  days  of  summer,  had  been  exchanged 
for  her  own  apartment,  and  Sybil  noticed  with  regret, 
that  her  mind,  which  had  been  for  so  long  a  time  firm 
and  energetic,  was  showing  unmistakable  signs  of  decay 
and  imbecility. 

Her  memory,  too,  which  had  been  so  well  stored  with 
dates  and  anecdotes  of  the  past,  failed  from  day  to  day, 
and  she  scarcely  seemed  to  be  conscious  of  those  around 
her  who  ministered  to  her  hourly  wants.  The  most 
cheering  view  of  her  decline  was,  that  she  suffered  no 
pain,  but  Sybil  would  often  retire  to  the  retreat  of  her 


Vernon  Grove.  99 

own  room  with  tearful  eyes  when  she  saw  that  her  grand- 
mother failed  to  recognise  her,  or  called  her  by  her 
mother's  name,  or  by  that  of  some  friend  of  her  childhood. 

Although  Mrs.  Gordon  had  ceased  to  recognise  her 
grandchild,  and  knew  no  difference  between  her  kind 
attentions  and  those  of  the  domestic,  Sybil's  constant 
ministrations  ceased  not ;  she  always  dedicated  to  her 
the  larger  part  of  her  mornings,  and  reserved  her  after- 
noons for  her  daily  walks  with  Vernon,  while  her  evenings 
alone  were  devoted  to  study.  Faithful  to  each  avocation 
she  proved,  and  Vernon  looked  forward  with  scarcely 
restrained  impatience  through  his  long  solitary  mornings 
to  those  sweet  hours  of  converse,  which  were  character- 
ized by  subjects  always  earnest  and  instructive,  as  the 
happy  period  of  his  long  and  weary  day. 

A  singular  state  of  things  had  arisen  from  the  part 
which  Sybil  had  played  as  amanuensis,  for  Linwood,  in 
reply  to  Sybil's  letter  dictated  by  Vernon,  had  addressed 
his  answer  to  her.  This  arrangement  was  agreeable  to 
him  in  many  respects ;  first,  because  he  knew  that  she 
had  never  been  in  Europe,  and  therefore  would  not  be 
wearied  when  what  he  saw  there  was  his  theme,  and 
moreover,  because  his  warm  genial  heart  longed  for 
sympathy,  and  to  the  so-called  child  whom  Vernon  had 
described  as  quick  and  intelligent,  he  thought  that  he 
might  write  without  reserve,  and  by  that  means  please 
Vernon  by  imparting  to  her  some  of  his  experiences  in 
the  world  of  art. 

As  far  as  Vernon  was  concerned,  he  was  quite  satisfied 
with  the  correspondence  between  his  friend  and  Sybil, 
and  this  state  of  things  seemed  quite  natural  to  him  ;  he 
thought  of  Linwood  only  as  engrossed  in  his  love  of  the 


loo  Vernon  Grove. 

occupation  he  had  chosen,  without  any  other  of  the  emo- 
tions incident  to  human  nature,  and  contrary  to  Lin  wood's 
expectations,  he  heard  with  pleasure  the  letters  read, 
although  it  was  all  to  him  beaten  ground.  Besides  it  was 
a  positive  pleasure  to  him  to  recall  the  scenes  which  he  had 
visited  and  enlarge  upon  them  to  Sybil,  who,  with  ever- 
ready  attention,  listened  with  increasing  interest  to  the 
descriptions  of  that  land  which  is  the  day-dream  of 
aspiring  girlhood. 

At  first  these  letters  were  simple  and  formal,  and  then 
when  Sybil's  answers,  which  were  no  longer  dictated  by 
Vernon,  came,  showing  such  a  just  appreciation  of  what 
he  had  written,  and  such  an  interest  in  all  that  he  saw, 
such  a  knowledge  of  the  details  of  art,  and  above  all  so 
pure  a  religious  faith,  Linwood's  day  was  not  happily 
ended  unless  he  had  written  in  his  journal  to  his  "  little 
friend;"  and  soon  the  words  "little  friend"  were 
changed  to  "  Sybil,"  and  "  dear  Sybil,"  and  theories, 
opinions,  and  faiths,  were  discussed,  and  had  they  seen 
and  been  well  acquainted  with  each  other,  there  could 
not  have  been  more  perfect  confidence  between  two 
friends  of  different  sexes. 

The  change  came  on  so  gradually  that  to  the  corres- 
pondents it  appeared  perfectly  natural,  while  Vernon, 
deceived  like  those  most  concerned,  regarded  the  letters 
as  being  merely  intended  for  him,  a  very  agreeable  jour- 
nal of  passing  events  mingled  with  other  subjects  of 
interest,  and  did  not  perceive  that  each  "  white-winged 
messenger,"  sent  across  the  Atlantic,  carried  a  chain  with 
it  that  linked  the  young  artist  and  Sybil,  with  her  gentle 
and  loving  nature,  nearer  and  yet  nearer  together. 

"  Another  letter  from  Mr.  Linwood !"  said  Sybil  one 


Vernon  Grove.  101 

morning,  dropping  a  bouquet  of  choice  flowers  to  the 
ground  in  her  eagerness  to  receive  it,  "just  what  we 
were  wishing  for !  There  is  no  small  pleasure  so  great 
in  life  as  the  breaking  of  a  seal,  which  secures  from  all 
other  eyes  words  meant  alone  for'one's  very  self.". 

Vernon  smiled  at  her  delight,  and  fully  as  anxious  as 
herself  to  hear  the  contents,  besought  her  to  lose  no  time 
in  reading  them. 

"  What  a  fine  correspondent  he  has  after  all  proved," 
said  he ;  "  you  know  that  I  told  him  never  to  write 
except  when  he  was  very  happy  or  very  wretched,  but 
this  I  think  is  his  fifth  letter." 

Yes,  five  letters  had  passed  between  Linwood  and 
Sybil ;  a  dangerous  number  for  hearts  so  young,  so  sym- 
pathising as  theirs ! 

Sybil  read — 

"  You  do  not  write  like  a  child,  dear  Sybil,  though  Vernon  calls 
you  one,  and  I  shall  persist  in  taking  you  with  me  in  imagination  to 
places  into  which  a  child  would  not  care  to  enter,  for  you  appreciate 
my  descriptions  so  fully,  that  I  feel  encouraged  to  unfold  to  you  more 
of  my  wanderings  than  I  would  alone  to  that  hard  cynical  guardian 
of  yours,  but  I  hope  that  he  will  condescend  to  listen  to  them  some- 
times, and  you  must  assure  him,  that  whether  ho  desires  it  or  not,  ho 
is  always  included  in  what  I  say  and  feel. 

"What  would  I  not  give  to  have  you  both  here  with  me  to-day, 
that  we  might  journey  through  this  thrice  beautiful  Italy  together!  I 
would  lead  you  to  its  lakes,  and  lingering  around  their  magic  shoiv.s, 
we  would  build  an  air-castle  of  life  there,  amid  their  beautiful  scenery, 
their  villas  and  terraces,  their  varied  trees  and  picturesque  people. 
Then  I  would  take  you  by  the  hand  and  stand  with  you  in  the  cathe- 
dral of  Milan,  which  some  traveller  from  our  own  country  has  declared 
he  would  rather  bring  to  his  native  land  than  anything  else  in  Europe, 
and  we  would  feel  together  that  it  is  a  temple  of  God  whatever  faith 
it  symbolizes,  and  from  your  child-heart  a  prayer  would  arise,  finding 


JO2  Vernon  Grove. 

its  way  through  its  gold  and  silver,  its  niches  and  statuary,  to  the 
Christian's  home  of  prayer. 

"  I  would  have  you  pause  before  Da  Vinci's  Last  Supper,  and  sigh 
witli  me  over  its  defaced  condition,  and  then  upon  Raphael's  Spolali- 
zio,  that  exquisite  gem  of  highest  art.  These  we  certainly  would  not 
omit  in  our  pleasure  tour. 

"  Then  we  would  haste  to  Venice  (no,  we  would  not  haste  in 
Italy),  and  under  its  skies,  in  its  mysterious  streets,  to  the  dipping  of 
oars,  you  should  sing  for  Vernon  and  me,  with  your  best  accent,  some 
of  Italia's  own  songs.  (Are  your  eyes  dark,  Sybil,  like  those  of  her 
children?)  Then  as  you  see  the  church  of  St.  Mark's,  your  voice 
would  be  hushed,  yourself  bewildered  by  its  peculiar  beauty,  in  which 
the  architect  has  seemed  to  defy  all  criticism. 

"  From  thence  I  would  guide  you  to  the  feet  of  the  master-painters 
of  Venice,  Titian  and  Paul  Veronese,  and  many  another  saint  of  art, 
to  drink  in  the  beauty  of  their  undying  creations.  Then  we  would 
stand  in  Verona  at  Juliet's  tomb,  and  Vernon,  with  his  deep  exquisite 
voice,  would  bring  Shakspeare  to  our  memory,  and  under  the  influence 
of  the  almost  inspired  words  we  would  give  a  sigh  to  buried  love  and 
constancy,  and  pass  on. 

"Then,  Sybil,  you  would  forgivje  me,  if  with  an  artist's  worship  of 
such  things,  I  lead  you  to  Parma  and  Correggio's  creations,  to  his 
Holy  Family  and  tender  Magdalen,  and  forward  to  the  galleries  of 
Bologna  to  follow  the  flights  of  the  immortal  Guido  in  his  Sampson 
and  his  Crucifixion,  and  on  to  the  Saint  Agnes  of  Domenichino,  and 
the  Saint  Cecilia  of  Raphael,  and  lastly,  over  the  Appenines  to  beauti- 
ful Florence. 

"  Were  you  weary,  dear  Sybil,  with  your  long  and  eventful  journey, 
we  would  pause  to  rest  upon  the  hill  of  Fiesole  and  mark  the  beauties 
of  the  city  as  it  lies  stretching  out  before  us  like  a  panorama ;  then 
entering  near  the  Palazzo,  we  would  gaze  upon  the  Fountain  of  Nep- 
tune, and  in  the  Tribune  pause  before  the  Venus,  the  Knife-Grinder, 
and  the  Wrestlers. 

"  Arrived  at  last  at  the  Gallery,  where  La  Fornarina  holds  her 
undisputed  sway,  I  should  depend  upon  your  fresh  unbiassed  impres- 
sions to  recall  to  Vernon's  memory  the  beauties  of  Raphael  and  Titian 
by  your  descriptions. 

"  But,  Sybil,  you  must  not  expect  me  to  conduct  you  in  one  letter 


Vernon  Grove.  103 

over  the  whole  of  Italy,  or  even  Florence  alone ;  the  path  that  I  have 
marked  out  to  you  in  this  single  epistle,  if  faithfully  trodden,  would 
consume  a  year,  and  in  Florence  itself  one  could  spend  years  with 
perfect  satisfaction.  What  mad  devotion  to  science  did  I  think  it 
once,  when  I  heard  a  naturalist  declare  that  he  could  remain,  with 
profit  to  himself,  on  a  desolate  island  for  months,  examining  the 
habits  of  a  single  fish ;  perhaps  you  would  say  that  I  am  as  thorough 
a  fanatic,  were  I  to  tell  you  that  in  the  study  of  a  single  picture  by 
one  of  the  great  masters,  I  could  consume  a  much  longer  time  in 
Florence. 

"Yernon  is  more  cheerful,  then?  Who  could  refrain  from  being 
cheerful  were  he  living  in  the  sunny  atmosphere  which  seems  to  sur- 
round a  certain  Sybil  Gray  ?  A  heavy  trust  is  yours,  my  little  friend ; 
guard  and  guide  him  well.  God,  for  some  wise  purpose  has  afflicted 
him ;  let  us  not  dare  to  try  to  lift  the  curtain  which  conceals  the  pur- 
poses of  a  higher  power,  but  bend  humbly  to  his  will. 

"  I  forgot  to  mention  that  you  must  not  be  surprised,  if  at  some 
time  during  the  latter  part  of  this  year  I  drop  down  upon  you  as  from 
the  skies,  for  at  times  the  Switzer's  own  longing  for  his  native  land 
comes  heavily  upon  me.  and  I  feel  that  there  is  no  cure  but  to  see  my 
own  home  once  more. 

"  Think  of  me  sometimes,  dear  child,  as  striving  to  be  and  to  do 
good,  or  I  should  not  be  worthy  of  a  place  in  your  pure  heart." 

It  would  be  almost  superfluous  to  say  that  Sybil  read 
these  letters  of  Linwood's  with  intense  pleasure,  but  it 
must  be  understood  that  they  were  not  ahvays  of  the 
character  of  that  which  has  been  transcribed  above. 
Sometimes  a  single  epistle  was  filled  with  a  description 
of  only  one  work  of  art,  and  then  again  one  would 
scarcely  have  imagined,  from  the  entire  absence  of  all 
allusions  to  such  things,  that  Albert  was  a  stranger  in  a 
strange  land,  fbr  books  criticised,  people  commented 
upon,  and  theories  discussed,  formed  the  prominent  part 
of  his  correspondence,  and  Linwood's  written  communi- 
cations really  educated  Sybil  as  much  as  the  verbal 
teachings  of  Vernon  and  her  masters. 


CHAPTER  X. 

"I  will  a  way 

And  gather  balm  from  a  sweet  forest  walk  1 
There,  as  the  breezes  through  the  branches  sweep, 
Is  heard  aerial  minstrelsy,  like  harps 
Untouched,  unseen,  that  on  the  spirit's  ear 
Pour  out  their  numbers  'till  they  lull  in  peace 
The  tumult  of  the  bosom." 

HANNAH  GOULD. 

"  On  the  road — the  lonely  road, 
Under  the  cold  white  moon, 
Under  the  ragged  trees  he  strode ; — 
There  was  a  step,  timed  with  his  own, 
A  figure  that  stooped  and  bowed ; 
A  broad  white  knife,  that  gleamed  and  shone 
Like  a  splinter  of  daylight  downward  thrown, 
And  the  moon  went  under  a  cloud." 

As  Vcrnon  became  more  accustomed  to  the  loss  of  his 
sight,  and  the  night  in  which  he  groped  the  footpaths 
more  familiar,  and  the  strange  horror  of  entire  darkness 
less  painful,  he  relinquished  occasionally  the  companion- 
ship of  an  attendant,  and  learned  to  love  the  deep  solitude 
of  the  woods,  taking  a  kind  of  pride  in  being  able  to 
dispense  with  the  surveillance  which  always  seemed  to 
him  to  be  inseparable  from  the  guidance  of  his  servant. 
But  just  as  he  congratulated  himself  upon  his  freedom, 
an  event  occurred  which  made  him  realize  to  the  full 
extent  his  helplessness,  and  that  though  of  almost 


Vernon  Grove.  105 

Herculean  proportions,  his  strength  now  availed  him 
nothing.  This  lesson  he  learned,  and  also  with  it  another, 
of  infinitely  more  importance ;  he  learned  that  he  had 
advanced  one  step  towards  self-government,  and  that  his 
pride  of  character,  wMch  was  one  of  his  besetting  sins, 
was,  in  a  measure,  subdued  by  the  incident  which  is  about 
to  be  related. 

On  the  outskirts  of  Yernon's  land,  near  the  open  road, 
there  lay  a  spring,  surrounded  by  a  rustic  construction  in 
a  most  romantic  dell,  over  which  hung  large,  drooping, 
forest  trees,  shutting-  out  the  sunlight  and  making  it  a 
quiet  and  secluded  place.  The  lulling  sound  of  the 
tinkling  water,  as  it  coursed  over  the  pebbles  in  a 
succession  of  endless  rivulets,  was  music  to  Vernon's 
ear,  and  feeling  quite  at  home  there,  he  would  dismiss 
his  servant  until  some  stated  hour,  when  either  he,  or 
Sybil,  freed  from  her  attendance  upon  her  grandmother, 
sought  him  and  conducted  him  home.  The  early  stars 
or  twilight  moon  often  found  him  dreaming  there,  and 
his  calmest  hours  of  contemplation  were  spent  in  this 
favorite  spot. 

One  evening  as  "William  Banks,  the  boy  whom  Vernon 
so  unfeelingly  had  caused  to  be  punished,  was  returning 
to  his  home,  rather  later  than  usual  from  his  work,  he 
noticed  a  man  of  suspicious  appearance  lingering  around 
the  precincts  of  the  spring,  and  as  he  was  evidently  a 
stranger,  he  concluded  that  he  could  be  there  for  no 
good  purpose,  and  cautiously  following  his  footsteps,  he 
soon  thought  that  he  had  discovered  the  object  which 
had  brought  him  to  the  place.  The  man,  with  noiseless 
tread,  parted  the  thick  branches  which  grew  interlaced 
around  the  spring,  and  peering  in,  seemed,  by  the 
5* 


106  Vernon  Grove. 

expression  of  his  countenance,  satisfied  with  what  he 
saw  therein,  and  soon  disappeared  closely  followed  by 
William,  who,  the  instant  that  he  had  command  of  the 
scene  unfolded  to  him,  stopped  for  farther  enlightenment 
as  to  the  intruder's  intention. 

He  saw  that  Vernon  lay  on  the  soft  moss-crowned 
bank  in  a  deep  sleep,  the  moon  lighting  up  his  whole 
figure,  and  that  the  man,  stepping  forward,  approached 
hnii  softly,  bending  at  length  over  him,  as  if  to  ascertain 
if  he  were  really  quite  unconscious  of  his  presence.  Then 
William  saw  farther  that  he  drew  a  knife  from  his  belt 
and  laid  it  upon  the  mound  beside  him,  ready  it  would 
appear,  to  use  in  an  emergency ;  next  the  watcher  beheld 
him  deliberately  kneel  by  Vernon,  and  with  some  sharp 
instrument  sever  his  watch  from  the  chain,  at  last  pro- 
ceeding to  rifle  his  pockets. 

The  spectator  of  this  strange  bold  proceeding,  stood 
for  a  moment  passionless  and  unmoved — there  was  a 
memory  in  his  heart  which  had  been  burnt  there,  he 
feared  never  to  be  effaced,  it  was  simply  a  disgrace, 
which  he,  the  helpless  one,  at  the  mercy  of  a  robber  and 
an  assassin,  had  brought  upon  him  who  was  a  witness  of 
the  scene  before  him,  and  he  felt  that  he  was  at  last 
avenged,  but  it  was  only  for  a  moment ;  his  better  nature 
returned  to  him  and  he  acted  accordingly. 

Watching  his  opportunity,  and  he  had  to  be  circum- 
spect, feeling  that  though  he  was  a  strong  tall  lad,  he 
wras  no  match  for  an  experienced  ruifian,  with  a  knife  at 
his  command,  he  leapt  suddenly  down  into  the  ravine, 
and  snatching  up  the  knife,  wrhich  he  threw  some  distance 
away,  caught  hold  of  the  kneeling  robber's  arms,  and 
pinioning  them  from  behind,  forcibly  held  him  down. 


Vernon  Grove.  107 

With  a  terrible  oath  the  man  tried  to  extricate  himself, 
and  Vernon  awoke  only  to  grope  about  bewildered  and 
alarmed.  In  a  voice  almost  inaudible  from  the  effort, 
very  nearly  beyond  his  strength,  which  he  was  making  to 
keep  the  struggling  man  in  his  grasp,  William  made  him 
understand  the  state  of  things,  and  Vernon,  grateful  to 
his  rescuer,  but  unable  to  be  of  any  service  to  him,  had 
no  other  alternative  than  to  call  loudly  to  his  servant, 
whom  he  expected  momently.  It  would  be  impossible 
to  describe  the  tumult  of  the  feeling  raging  in  Vernon's 
breast  as  he  stood  there  in  his  helplessness.  Once,  it 
would  not  have  been  thus ;  trained  to  feats  of  strength, 
surpassing  all  his  companions  in  agility  and  skill,  and  in 
all  that  called  forth  muscular  power,  stalwart,  tall,  and 
commanding,  with  a  breadth  of  chest  that  seemed  as  if 
it  would  defy  the  blows  that  most  men  might  be  able  to 
give  it,  he  chafed  like  a  caged  lion,  a  very  Sampson,  in  an 
angry  inward  struggle,  but  this  agony  of  endurance 
availed  him  nothing.  Happily,  John  was  at  no  great 
distance,  and  hastened  promptly  to  the  spot,  where,  with 
the  assistance  of  William,  whose  strength  was  now  nearly 
overspent,  he  succeeded  in  securing  the  man. 

He  was  a  hardened-looking  ruffian,  this  intruder  upon 
that  peaceful  glen,  and  Vernon  discovered  that  he  had  but 
lately  been  dismissed  from  the  county  jail,  and  becoming 
acquainted  with  his  secluded  habits,  had  determined  to 
replenish  his  purse  from  Vernon's  before  venturing  into 
the  world  again.  The  man,  in  his  confession,  owned  his 
intention  of  killing  his  victim  had  he  made  any  resistance, 
but  William's  sudden  appearance  had  defeated  all  his 
plans.  It  was  thus  that  the  boy,  so  persecuted  once, 
found  himself  suddenly  raised  to  a  position  of  importance, 


108  Vernon  Grove. 

but  he  looked  for  no  reward  or  favor  from  him,  who 
had  so  cruelly  denied  all  favors  at  a  time  when  he  needed 
them  much  more  than  in  the  present  instance. 

When  Sybil  heard  of  Vernon's  providential  escape, 
her  whole  soul  lifted  itself  hi  thankful  prayer  to  God  for 
his  preservation,  but  when  she  learned  to  whom  he  had 
been  indebted  for  his  safety,  and  life  perhaps,  a  glow  of 
triumph  lit  up  her  face,  for  she  had  long  felt  a  security  in 
the  boy's  rectitude  of  character,  and  she  was  curious 
to  know  how  Vernon  would  act  towards  his  deliverer. 
Her  interest  hi  William  Banks  had  been  of  no  negative 
sort,  for  ever  since  his  disgrace  she  had  been  a  constant 
visitor  at  his  mother's  cottage,  and  hi  her  own  gentle 
way,  she  had  soothed  the  inmates  there  by  telling  them 
that  a  first  step  towards  evil  was  often  the  last,  and  that 
she  had  not  lost  confidence  in  the  offender  if  he  felt  con- 
trition for  what  he  had  done,  and  by  timely  counsel 
and  gifts  of  books  and  needful  clothing  she  won  the  love 
and  respect  of  the  household,  and  the  right  to  speak 
encouragingly  to  the  boy.  Now  she  felt  that  her  trust 
had  not  been  misplaced,  for  it  was  this  apparent,  entire 
forgetfulness  of  Vernon's  punishment  in  defending  him 
with  so  much  bravery,  which  convinced  her  that  the  lad 
was  not  utterly  depraved,  and  that  she  had  not  sown  the 
good  seed  of  advice  and  sympathy  in  vain. 

With  a  strange  eager  interest  she  waited  for  some 
demonstration  of  gratitude  upon  Vernon's  part,  but  that 
reserve  which  he  knew  so  well  how  to  assume,  was  an 
effectual  barrier  to  everything  like  confidence,  and  thus 
a  week  passed,  a  miserable  week  to  Sybil,  who  feared 
that,  among  other  faults  of  character  which  beset  her 
adopted  brother,  foremost  would  be  ranked  that  of  in- 


Vernon  Grove.  1Q9 

gratitude  ;  but  at  the  end  of  the  week  rather  a  formal 
summons  from  Vernou  for  her  to  come  to  him  in  the 
library,  made  her  anticipate  that  it  would  lead  to  some 
course  of  action  on  his  part,  which  would  clear  him  from 
this  new  charge. 

"  Something  is  to  be  done  about  this  lad,  this  William 
Banks,"  he  said  as  she  entered  his  presence,  "  you  know 
it  and  I  know  it,  Sybil,  what  must  it  be  ?" 

Sybil  spoke  out  boldly  for  the  boy. 

"  Do  what  the  noble  part  of  your  nature  bids  you," 
she  said. 

"  What !  send  for  this  cottager,  this  boy  who  but  two 
years  ago" 

"  Stop,  Mr.  Vernon,"  said  Sybil,  arresting  his  words 
with  her  hand  laid  upon  his  arm,  "  leave  that  unsaid ; 
do  not  speak  about  what  he  has  been,  but  what  he  is." 

Vernon  trembled  under  that  light  touch,  and  that 
gentle  rebuke. 

"  Well,  then,"  he  continued,  "  you  would  have  me 
send  for  this  cottager,  I  know  it,  though  you  have  not 
said  one  word  to  influence  me,  but  I  feel  it  here  in  my 
heart,  Sybil,  and  tell  him  that  I  owe  him  my  life,  that 
his  bravery  was  unparalleled,  his  presence  of  mind  extra- 
ordinary, and  besides  this,  you  would  have  me  reward 
him  by  some  post  of  trust  and  honor — is  it  not  so,  Sy- 
bil ?" 

His  voice  softened  as  he  spoke,  and  Sybil  caught  his 
hand  gratefully — since  eye  could  not  reply  to  eye,  it  was 
but  another  way  of  showing  her  approval  of  what  he 
had  said. 

"  You  refer  this  ah1  to  me,  Mr.  Vernon,"  she  said,  "  but 
you  know  it  emanated  from  what  is  honorable  in  your- 


no  Vernon  Grove. 

self,  and  if  you  do  it,  it  will  be  just  what  is  right  and  just 
what  is  noble." 

Vernon  smiled,  but  his  lip  quivered  too,  as  if  some 
new  and  blessed  experience  were  stirring  the  very  depths 
of  his  soul. 

"  Send  for  the  lad,  Sybil,"  he  said  at  last,  "  here  and 
at  once!" 

A  second  time  was  William  the  cottager  sent  for  to 
the  house  of  Vernon  Grove,  but  under  what  different 
circumstances  !  The  boy  advanced  with  a  modest, 
though  not  downcast  look  into  the  hall,  where  Vernon 
and  Sybil  stood  to  meet  him,  the  former  holding  out  his 
hand  to  welcome  him,  but  he  scarcely  understood  the 
action  in  that  cold  proud  man,  and  Sybil  taking  the  hand 
of  each,  placed  them  one  within  the  other. 

"  I  owe  my  life  to  you,  William,"  said  Vernon  in  gen- 
tle tones — "a  young  man  of  your  age,  and  just  entering 
manhood,  needs  sometimes  a  helping  hand  to  lead  him 
on  to  success ;  you  must  look  upon  me  as  your  friend, 
and  tell  me  your  wants.  Would  you  like  to  go  to  the 
city  and  earn  a  livelihood  there,  or  would  you  rather  he- 
advanced  to  some  station  of  trust  here  in  the  country y 
Only  let  me  know  your  wishes  and  they  shall  be  gratified 
by  one  who,  when  in  a  passionate  mood,  was  not  gene- 
rous enough  to  make  an  allowance  for  a  first  youthful 
fault." 

A  thrill  swept  through  the  chords  of  Sybil's  heart  ; — 
surely  this  was  not  the  Vernon  she  had  known,  once  so 
unforgiving  and  tyrannical,  nor  did  she  wonder  at  the 
glow  of  pride  that  lit  the  upturned  face  of  the  lad  as  he 
listened  to  Vernon's  noble  words. 

"  You  thought  that  you  were  acting  right,"  returned 


Vernon  Grove.  ill 

he,  and  so  did  your  duty,  sometimes  I  think,  for  the 
best,  too ;  for  it  was  my  punishment  after  all  that  led 
Miss  Gray  to  our  cottage,  and  we  have  all  been  better 
and  happier  since  she  came.  I  would  thank  you,  sir,  not 
to  allude  to  a  reward  for  an  act  which  any  one  with  cou- 
rage would  have  done ;  there  is  only  one  thing  that  I 
desire,  and  that  is,  that  you  would  forget  that  I  ever 
lost  sight  of  my  duty  so  far  as  to  stoop  to  the  wicked 
ways  of  a  thief." 

"  I  will  forget  it,"  said  Vernon  warmly,  "  only  to  re- 
member that  you  are  a  noble  and  worthy  being,  and  that 
you  may  count  upon  me  as  your  friend  for  life." 

Sybil  lay  down  to  rest  that  night  with  a  grateful 
happy  heart,  for  besides  the  conquest  which  she  felt  that 
Vernon  had  made  over  himself,  he  had  empowered  her 
to  have  the  widow  and  her  family  removed  to  a  comfort- 
able cottage  upon  his  own  land,  and  William,  besides 
overseeing  his  employer's  affairs,  was  to  be  presented 
with  a  little  farm  which  would  yield  him  a  certain  in- 
come. 

And  Sybil,  Sybil,  was  to  be  the  Lady  Bountiful, 
through  whom  the  grand  changes  were  to  come  to 
pass.  No  wonder  that  golden  visions  floated  about  her 
in  her  dreams,  and  that  her  day  thoughts  were  sur- 
rounded with  a  rosy  halo,  for  she  was  tasting  a  new 
pleasure,  and  that  through  Vernon's  kindness,  the  luxury 
of  practically  doiag  good. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

"  Oh !  watch  me,  watch  me  still 

Thro'  the  long  night's  dreary  hours ; 
Uphold,  by  thy  firm  will, 

Worn  Nature's  sinking  powers. 

While  yet  thy  face  is  there 

(The  loose  locks  round  it  flying), 
So  young,  and  fresh,  and  fair, 

I  feel  not  I  am  dying. 

But  while  those  pitying  eyes 

Are  bending  thus  above  me, 
In  vain  the  death-dews  rise, — 

Thou  dost  regret  and  love  me  1 

Thy  fond  and  pitying  smile 

Shall  soothe  my  painful  waking, 
Thy  voice  shah1  cheer  me  while 

The  slow  grey  dawn  is  breaking." 

MRS.  NORTON. 

THE  shock  that  Vernon  had  sustained,  together  with 
his  sleep  in  the  damp  neighborhood  of  the  spring,  were 
more  disastrous  in  their  consequences  than  could  at  first 
have  been  imagined ;  for  one  afternjon  shortly  after, 
when  Sybil  came  into  the  parlor  equipped  for  a  walk, 
she  found  him  lying  upon  a  couch  with  a  flush  like  that 
of  fever  upon  his  face.  He  was  seldom  ill,  and  his  pow- 
erful frame  and  strong  athletic  limbs  looked  as  if  they 
could  not  be  bound  by  the  cords  of  sickness ;  but  while 


Vernon  Grove.  113 

Sybil  looked  at  him  and  heard  his  heavy  irregular 
breathing  as  he  lay  with  contracted  brow,  she  intuitively 
felt  that  he  was  suffering,  and  questioned  him.  Vernon 
acknowledged  a  dull  pain  in  his  head  and  a  burning  thirst, 
treating  the  matter  lightly,  and  making  his  usual  prepa- 
rations for  his  evening  stroll,  but  a  sudden  faintness  over- 
took him,  and  towards  night  his  ill  feelings  so  continued 
to  increase,  that  he  himself  at  last  proposed  to  send  for 
medical  aid. 

The  physician  at  once  declared  that  he  was  very  sick, 
and  that  he  required  the  most  attentive  care,  and  thus  a 
new  office  devolved  upon  Sybil,  who  placed  herself 
under  the  teaching  of  the  housekeeper  who  was  an  ex- 
cellent nurse  and  had  attended  Vernon  in  his  former  ill- 
ness. With  untiring  footsteps  she  passed  from  her 
grandmother's  room  to  his,  and  with  her  gentle  ministra- 
tions relieved  them  both,  winning  many  a  word  of  appro- 
val from  the  more  experienced  nurse,  who  was  glad  of 
the  young  eyes  and  hopeful  nature  of  Sybil  to  bear  her 
company.  The  responsibility  increased  each  moment, 
for  Vernon  grew  rapidly  ill,  the  fever  raging  with  una- 
bating  violence,  until  at  last  he  sank  into  utter  uncon- 
sciousness. 

To  such  anxiety  of  mind  as  Sybil  now  felt,  she  was  a 
stranger,  and  the  new  experience  bewildered  her,  and 
though  she  did  not  at  first  know  the  extent  of  the  dan- 
ger of  her  friend  and  guardian,  she  felt  that  such  an  ill- 
ness was  a  terrible  thing,  and  her  heart  was  sorely  trou- 
bled for  the  strong  proud  man  who  lay  bereft  of  strength 
and  pride,  and  with  unfailing  patience  she  watched  and 
waited  upon  him.  Sometimes  she  thought  that  if  ever 
there  could  be  a  return  for  all  the  benefits  which  she  had 


1 1 4  Vernon  Grove. 

received  from  him,  the  hour  had  come  to  give  it,  and 
that  devotion  on  her  part  would  be  but  a  proper  offer- 
ing in  exchange ;  but  her  motive  at  other  times  for  thus 
expending  her  energies  in  watching  day  and  night  at  his 
bedside,  was  only  what  any  sick  and  suffering  fellow- 
creature  might  expect,  namely,  Christian  kindness  and 
sympathy. 

Up  to  the  time  of  his  unconsciousness  he  was  only 
content  when  she  was  in  his  presence,  and  was  restless 
and  complaining  when  she  left  the  room  to  attend  to  her 
grandmother's  wants,  but  now  that  restlessness  was  over, 
the  stupor  which  had  succeeded  was  oblivion  to  all  that 
was  passing  around,  and  at  this  stage  of  his  illness  Sybil 
had  a  new  and  unexpected  trial. 

The  physician,  who  was  a  kind  and  fatherly  man, 
called  her  to  him  one  day  when  she  thought  that  Ver- 
non, from  some  new  symptoms  which  had  appeared, 
more  than  ever  required  her  watchful  vigils,  and  gently 
laying  his  hand  upon  her  fair  young  head,  told  her  that 
it  was  early  hi  life  for  such  trials  to  fall  to  her  lot,  but 
that  he  must  prepare  her  for  the  worst  by  informing  her 
that  in  ah1  human  probability  Vernon  would  die.  The 
disease  had  baffled  his  skill,  and  although  he  tried  every 
endeavor  to  save  his  patient's  life,  still,  unless  some 
almost  miraculous  intervention,  which  he  could  not  fore- 
see then,  interposed  in  the  natural  order  of  events,  he 
said,  that  his  patient  must  shortly  breathe  his  last.  He 
then  dictated  a  letter  to  her  which  he  toid  her  she  must 
send  at  once  to  Isabel,  acquainting  her  with  the  sad  in- 
telligence, but  informing  her  at  the  same  time  that  it 
would  be  useless  in  her  to  attempt  to  see  her  brother,  as 
should  the  worst  happen,  it  would  be  before  she  could 


Vernon  Grove.  115 

arrive  at  Vernon  Grove.  The  physician  knew  some- 
thing of  Isabel's  character,  and  felt,  even  had  there 
been  time,  how  out  of  place  she  would  be  by  the  sick 
man's  couch,  with  her  restlessness  and  worldly  thoughts 
and  manners. 

Poor  Sybil,  she  received  the  dreadful  intelligence  with 
a  cold  chill  which  made  her  speechless,  but  the  convic- 
tion that  if  she  were  not  calm,  and  did  she  not  put  on  a 
courage  which  she  was  far  from  feeling,  there  would  be 
none  to  act,  gave  to  her  appearance  a  quiet  dignity 
which  even  deceived  the  kind-hearted  physician,  who 
called  her  a  heroine,  and  praised  her  self-possession ; 
but  could  he  have  seen  her  a  moment  after  he  left 
her,  with  a  death-like  pallor  on  her  countenance,  and 
have  heard  the  simple  ejaculation,  "  God  help  me," 
Avhich  burst  from  her  white  and  quivering  lips,  he  would 
scarcely  have  called  her  a  heroine  then. 

Still  he  might  live,  hope  whispered,  and  if  human  care 
and  attention  can  avail,  he  must  live,  she  said  to  herself, 
even  if  her  own  strength  and  life  were  to  ebb  away  by 
the  side  of  Vernon's  couch.  What  mattered  it  if  he 
woke  from  that  death-like  stupor  to  find  her  dead  ;  ay, 
what  mattered  it  ?  Had  he  not  made  the  world  beauti- 
ful to  her  by  his  teachings,  his  sympathy  ;  what  would 
it  be  without  him  ?  Thus  Sybil  reasoned  in  behalf  of 
her  teacher,  her  benefactor,  her  brother,  her  friend. 

The  physician  had  told  her  that  there  was  a  crisis  in 
his  disease,  on  the  other  side  of  which  lay  either  life  or 
death ;  scarcely  the  former,  however,  and  almost  cer- 
tainly the  latter.  Should  he  die,  he  would  pass  away 
quietly  and  gently  into  another  state  of  being,  like  a 
child  going  into  a  slumber,  for  there  was  no  strength 


1 1 6  Vernon  Grove. 

within  him  to  do  battle  with  the  grim  tyrant;  but 
should  he  live,  as  quietly  would  he  wake  again  to 
earth,  and  its  many  trials,  and  as  long  as  there  was  a 
ray  of  hope,  Sybil's  hope  was  strong.  She  could  not, 
would  not,  believe  that  Vernon  was  about  to  pass  away 
from  her  sight  for  ever;  she  shuddered,  too,  at  the 
thought  of  how  ill  prepared  he  was  for  such  a  change, 
and  fervent  prayers  for  his  recovery  were  unceasingly 
upon  her  lips. 

On  the  morning  after  her  conversation  with  the  phy- 
sician, death  indeed  seemed  to  have  the  mastery  over 
life  upon  the  body  of  the  unconscious  invalid,  for  his 
high  white  brow  was  whiter  than  before,  and  his  hands 
seemed  like  ice  within  her  own;  but  even  then,  when 
almost  hoping  against  hope,  a  prayer  burst  from  her 
lips  in  the  fullness  of  her  heart,  and  with  a  passion  and 
energy  which  were  almost  foreign  to  her  calm  equable 
temperament,  she  interceded  for  the  life  of  her  guar- 
dian. 

"  Oh,  my  God,"  she  said,  in  the  simple  language  of 
her  guileless  heart,  "  spare  him,  spare  him  who  has  been 
to  me  a  friend,  guide,  teacher,  who  has  work  upon 
earth  yet  to  do^  and  who,  though  shut  out  from  thy 
blessed  light,  still  sympathises  with  those  who  enjoy 
what  is  denied  to  him.  If  thou  dost  take  him  he  is  in 
thy  hands,  thou  art  forgiving,  oh  God ;  but  if  in  thy 
mercy  thou  dost  see  fit  to  keep  him  here  on  earth,  may 
this  new  trial  and  suffering  have  brought  him  nearer  to 
thee  to  do  thy  will,  for  with  thee  is  life,  without  thee 
and  Christ,  spiritual  death.  Amen." 

As  Sybil  knelt  by  the  bedside  of  Vernon,  her  face 
buried  in  her  hands,  and  her  sobs  breaking  out  unrc- 


Vernon  Grove.  117 

strained  from  her  over-burthened  heart,  she  heard  that 
soul-felt  "  Amen "  echoed  so  softly,  yet  distinctly,  that 
she  started  to  her  feet,  wondering  if  the  word  had  come 
from  a  spirit  or  from  the  pale  lips  before  her.  He  had 
said  it,  he  lived !  He  had  passed  from  the  shadow  of  the 
grave  into  life  once  more,  and  had  heard  that  earnest 
prayer.  A  smile  was  on  his  face,  but  tears  were  silently 
coursing  each  other  down  his  pallid  cheeks.  Softly 
Sybil  wiped  them  away,  and  leaning  over  him,  while 
trying  not  to  show  any  emotion,  she  asked  him  if  he 
needed  anything,  and  told  him  calmly  how  great  a  dan- 
ger he  had  passed,  and  how  necessary  it  was  to  his 
recovery  that  he  should  not  exert  himself  at  all. 

"  Oh,  that  I  had  passed  away,"  he  murmured,  "  in 
that  deep  unconsciousness — it  is  so  fearful  to  awake 
again  to  life,  its  disappointments  and  trials,  and  its  blind- 
ness." 

"  Hush,"  said  Sybil  softly,  laying  her  hand,  with  its 
velvet  softness,  caressingly  upon  his  brow,  "  murmur 
not  against  what  God  has  done.  He  may  have  brought 
you  low  to  raise  you  again  for  some  good  purpose,  some 
great  joy." 

Joy  for  him!  Ah,  that  might  be,  he  thought,  if  she 
loved  him,  if  the  voice  that  had  called  him  back  to  life 
had  called  him  back  to  love  too,  if  he  had  youth  and 
sight  to  win  her  for  his  own,  but  these  were  not  the  days 
of  miracles.  Remembering  his  vow  of  old,  he  put  a 
check  upon  his  thoughts  and  tongue,  and  answered  her 
not,  but  his  brow  contracted  with  the  effort  as  though 
spasmed  with  pain. 

"  We  must  not  talk  any  more,"  she  said,  lifting  the 
waves  of  bright  soft  hair  that  lay  tangled  upon  his 


1 1 8  Vernon  Grove. 

brow  ;  "  our  good  doctor  will  be  here  directly,  and  he 
will  ask  me  if  I  have  been  faithful  to  my  precious 
charge."  Then  he  lay  still  and  hushed  under  the  hea- 
venly spell  of  her  gentle  words  and  soft  touch,  as  she 
smoothed  into  something  like  order  the  rebellious  locks 
of  his  hair  until  she  thought  that  he  slept,  and  then  sat 
down  quietly,  afraid  to  leave  him  and  yet  watching 
anxiously  for  the  entrance  of  some  one  to  whom  *he 
might  impart  the  joyful  tidings. 

"  Oh,  Sybil,"  he  said  at  last,  with  a  voice  of  anguish 
and  tenderness  which  almost  betrayed  his  secret,  "  your 
watchfulness,  your  devotion,  have  cured  me  of  this 
almost  fatal  fevei*,  but  there  remains  a  pain  incurable, 
which  you  know  not  of,  here,  deep,  deep  in  my  heart, 
which  is  beating  for  ever  with  the  same  throb  of  anguish ; 
God  cannot  still  that  and  bid  it  be  calm,  though  He  can 
give  life  and  take  it." 

"Poor,  tried,  weary  heart,"  she  answered  softly,  as 
though  she  were  soothing  a  grieved  child ;  then  dash- 
ing away  the  tears  that  would  come  to  her  eyes  for  very 
pity  of  his  weakness,  she  continued  earnestly,  "  God 
can  do  all  things,  Mr.  Vernon,  for  those  who  love  him  ; 
do  you  not  remember  those  beautiful  words,  '  Tenderly 
his  finger  touches  the  stains  of  our  hearts  and  demies 
the  misery  of  our  lives.'  But  to  be  loved  and  cared  for 
by  Him,  we  must  love  Him  too.  Will  you  not  try  to 
do  this  ?" 

"  Yes,  if  you  will  teach  me  how,  Sybil,"  he  answered. 
Sybil  pressed  his  hand,  but  did  not  answer.  She  felt  a 
new  joy  in  her  heart ;  she  might  be  the  means  of  train- 
ing a  soul  for  a  purer  life ;  she  was  weak,  truly,  for  the 
task,  but  God  was  on  her  side,  and  her  reply  to  his 


Vernon  Grove.  1 19 

question  was  simply  that  gentle  pressure  which  the  blind 
man  understood,  and  a  scarcely  audible  prayer  breathed 
for  him,  for  her,  for  both. 

The  entrance  of  the  physician  put  an  end  to  further 
conversation,  and  it  was  well  that  he  came,  for  the 
unusual  excitement  was  anything  but  beneficial  to  Ver- 
non. 

"  By  almost  a  miracle  you  are  raised  from  a  very  cri- 
tical state  to  one  of  comparative  security,"  he  said 
seriously,  "but  your  little  nurse  must  keep  you  very 
quiet,  noting  the  slightest  change,  for  a  relapse  would 
be  fatal  in  your  present  weak  state  ;  and  any  conversa- 
tion long  continued,  or  any  excitement,  would  be  apt  to 
throw  you  back  again." 

Thus  warned,  Sybil  did  her  duty  to  the  utmost ;  she 
would  neither  converse  herself,  nor  allow  Vernon  to  en- 
gage in  any  conversation  on  his  part,  and  a  busy  and  im- 
portant person  she  became,  flitting  like  a  spirit  of  peace 
from  room  to  room,  the  servants  looking  up  to  her  with 
respect,  and  even  the  old  housekeeper  praising  her  for 
her  untiring  industry  and  devotion.  This  self-abnegation 
had  its  reward,  for  Vernon  gradually  recovered  his 
strength,  and  though  not  able  to  leave  his  room  for  some 
time,  each  day  added  fresh  vigor  to  his  wasted  frame ; 
and  as  gradually  she  felt  that  she  was  gaining  a  recog- 
nised influence  even  over  that  stern  unbending  will. 

"  Is  Sybil  here  ?"  asked  Vernon  one  afternoon  after 
waking  from  a  refreshing  sleep,  "  yes,  I  know  that  she 
is,  for  the  air  is  softer  for  her  presence,  there  is  a  balmier 
breath  floating  above  and  around  me.  Yes,  Sybil  must 
be  here ;  where  is  she,  and  what  is  she  doing  ?" 

"  You  have  guessed  aright,"  she  answered  playfully, 


12O  Vernon  Grove. 

"  but  because  you  are  feeling  better  and  stronger  with 
coming  health,  you  must  not  be  led  away  by  your 
imaginings  to  pay  such  far-fetched  compliments.  I  am 
seated  by  a  window,  sometimes  looking  at  the  last  foot- 
prints of  Winter,  and  sometimes  reading  passages  from 
a  good  book." 

"  It  is  a  long  time  since  my  pupil  has  read  to  me,  will 
she  read  to  me  now  ?  Along  with  this  fine  elastic  air 
around  me,  let  her  voice  come  to  me  like  the  tuneful 
reed  of  woodland  shepherd,  as  it  did  in  days  of  yore." 

Sybil  half  smiled  at  his  persistent  complimentary  tone, 
then  looked  serious  enough  as  her  eye  rested  upon  the 
book  that  she  was  holding ;  history,  poetry,  novels, 
science,  all  these  had  she  read  aloud  to  Vernon,  but 
never  that.  Would  he  listen  patiently,  or  would  he  ask 
for  something  lighter,  and  to  his  ken,  better?  She 
would  try  him — it  was  worth  the  trial — his  displeasure  was 
nothing  compared  with  what  she  thought  seemed  clearly 
to  her  her  duty,  and  unfalteringly  and  feelingly  she  read 
from  the  page  which  lay  open  upon  her  lap. 

"  The  Lord  is  my  shepherd,  I  shall  not  want. 

"  He  maketh  me  to  lie  down  in  green  pastures :  He 
leadeth  me  beside  the  still  waters. 

"  He  restoreth  my  soul,  He  leadeth  me  in  the  paths 
of  righteousness  for  His  name's  sake. 

"  Yea,  though  I  walk  through  the  valley  of  the  sha- 
dow of  death,  I  will  fear  no  evil,  for  thou  art  with  me, 
thy  rod  and  thy  staff  they  comfort  me. 

"  Thou  preparest  a  table  before  me  in  the  presence  of 
mine  enemies ;  thou  anointest  my  head  with  oil,  my  cup 
runneth  over. 

"  Surely  goodness  and  mercy  shall  follow  me  all  the 


Vernon  Grove.  121 

days  of  my  life,  and  I  will  dwell  in  the  house  of  the  Lord 
for  ever." 

Sybil  made  no  comment  upon  what  she  had  read,  nor 
did  she  allow  Vernon  to  do  so,  for  she  arose  and  left  the 
apartment,  imagining  that  he  had  food  enough  for 
thought  in  the  beautiful  words  he  had  heard. 

The  next  afternoon  as  she  was  seated  in  the  same  spot 
with  the  same  book  before  her,  great  was  her  delight  at 
hearing  Vernon  request  her  to  read  aloud  again,  leaving 
her  to  the  choice  of  what  it  should  be.  She  chose,  as  she 
had  done  the  day  before,  feeling  that  one  step  was 
gained,  and  when  he  bade  her  pause  so  that  he  might 
speak  of  the  beauty  of  some  particular  passage,  she 
knew  that  the  ice  of  indifference  was  broken ;  and  it 
came  to  pass  that  after  Vernon's  recovery  the  Bible  still 
continued  to  form  a  part  of  their  daily  reading.  Vernon 
listened  to  it,  but  too  often  as  a  critic,  though  Sybil 
reasoned  rightly  when  she  said  to  herself  that  even  then 
it  was  a  great  gain,  and  that,  perhaps,  when  he  came  "  to 
scoff"  he  would  "  remain  to  pray." 

As  the  Winter  passed  away  and  the  Spring  came  in 
with  joyous  step,  a  very  maiden  in  the  first  flush  of  youth, 
brightening  everything  she  looked  upon  and  smiling 
upon  earth  and  sky,  Vernon's  recovery  seemed  esta- 
blished, and  each  day  added  somewhat  of  his  old  vigor 
to  his  step,  each  day  his  proud  look  came  back  more 
strongly  marked  upon  his  face;  not  the  defiant  look 
which  made  Sybil  liken  him  to  a  tree  struck  by  lightning, 
and  though  blasted,  towering  upwards  to  the  sky,  but  a 
softened  pride,  as  though  the  tree  was  scathed  only,  and 
struggled,  erect  still,  for  life.  He  was  happier,  far  hap- 
pier, too,  than  he  had  been  for  years,  for  he  had  a  tran- 
0 


122  Vernon  Grove. 

quil  security  in  the  present  which  soothed  and  satisfied 
him.  First  he  felt  how  exclusively  Sybil  was  his  own, 
at  least  until  some  one  more  fortunate  than  himself  came 
to  claim  her,  and  again  he  knew  that  he  was  a  better 
man.  Gone  were  those  quick  flashes  of  temper  which 
so  often  interfered  with  his  peace  of  mind ;  gone  was 
that  miserable  depression  of  spirits,  which  not  only 
affected  his  own  well-being  but  that  of  those  around  him, 
and  those  querulous  repinings  against  fate  had  given 
place,  if  not  to  submission,  to  a  quiet  acquiescence  in 
his  condition,  and  though  he  was  far  from  his  ideal  of 
a  good  man,  and  farther  yet  from  Sybil's,  still  the  pro- 
gress was  upward  not  downward. 

It  has  been  said  that  "  the  heart  in  waking  wakes  the 
mind,"  and  perhaps  all  of  Vernon's  happy  change  of 
character  could  be  traced  to  Sybil's  influence  and  the 
strong  love  which  had  budded  awhile  ago,  and  had  now 
burst  into  full  flower,  which  he  wore,  truly  enough,  con- 
cealed ;  not  on  his  breast  but  in  it.  Even  granting  this, 
Sybil  might  have  been  the  instrument,  the  means  which 
led  on  to  such  a  desirable  end.  So  that  the  change 
had  really  come,  it  mattered  little  whether  Sybil's  hand 
first  touched  the  troubled  waters,  or  whether  an  angel 
had  looked  within  their  depths  with  eyes  that  had  power 
to  calm.  God  has  many  ways  to  bring  a  wanderer 
home. 

At  this  period  of  our  story  Mrs.  Gordon  remained  in 
the  same  state,  neither  better  nor  worse,  and  Sybil  was 
truly  thankful  to  know  that  in  her  slow  decay,  though  the 
mind  was  no  longer  active,  the  body  of  her  dear  relative 
was  free  from  suffering,  and  with  renewed  ardor  she  laid 
plans  to  pursue  her  studies  and  to  devote  as  much  time 


Vernon  Grove.  123 

as  she  conscientiously  could  to  her  improvement  in  every 
branch  of  education,  but  an  event  occurred  that  entirely 
interrupted  the  even  tenor  of  her  life. 

About  this  time  a  letter  arrived  from  Isabel,  full  of 
regrets  that  she  had  been  unable  to  leave  her  home  at 
the  period  of  Vernon's  illness,  congratulating  him  upon 
his  recovery,  and  adding  that  as  he  was  proof  against  all 
invitations  to  the  city,  she  had  determined  to  spend  a 
month  with  him  ;  but  dreading  the  loneliness  of  the  drive, 
as  Mr.  Clayton  was  unable  to  accompany  her,  he  must 
be  prepared  to  have  a  friend  of  hers  for  an  inmate,  who 
had  been  selected  by  her  for  agreeable  conversation, 
brilliant  qualities,  and  in  fact  for  all  that  would  render  a 
tiresome  journey  agreeable. 

"  And  this  friend  ?"  asked  Sybil  as  she  finished  reading 
Isabel's  letter. 

"  Only  some  artist  or  poet,  I  suppose,"  answered  Ver- 
non in  his  turn,  though  concealing  his  fears  and  anxious 
about  any  addition  to  their  happy  home  of  one  who 
might  interest  Sybil,  "  Isabel  is  always  surrounded  by 
such,  who  are  painting  her  beauty  or  making  verses 
about  her  expressive  eyes,  that  '  underneath  th.it  calm 
white  forehead  are  ever  burning  torrid.'  " 

"  You  have  so  often  spoken  of  your  sister's  beauty 
that  I  have  a  longing  to  see  it,  just  as  one  longs  to  go 
abroad  to  gaze  at  one  particular  Madonna.  I  wonder 
if  the  sense  of  her  loveliness  will  flash  upon  me  like  sun- 
light, or  if  it  will  grow  upon  me  like  the  coming  dawn. 
I  cannot  tell  yet  what  my  ideal  of  beauty  is,  only  it  seems 
to  me  now  that  I  could  scarcely  be  said  to  have  one. 
As  in  pictures,  so  in  living  and  breathing  creations  of 
beauty,  I  should  think  that  one  ought  to  be  educated  to 


124  Vernon  Grove. 

enjoy  it  and  to  say  at  last,  '  this  or  that  face  or  form 
delights  me.' " 

"  And  yet,  Sybil,"  answered  Yernon,  "  I  would  not 
have  you  think  that  Isabel,  with  her  surpassing  loveli- 
ness, is  my  criterion.  I  admired  but  did  not  enjoy  her 
face  when  I  could  see  it.  Hers  is  a  restless  butterfly 
brilliancy,  a  very  opal  is  she  among  the  gems  ;  her  friend, 
Miss  Percy  (I  can  talk  of  her  without  emotion  now), 
was  once  my  type  of  the  highest  perfection  of  beauty, 
calm,  statuesque,  still,  ruby-lipped,  not  so  fair  as  clear 
and  regally  majestic ;  a  rose,  to  the  looker-on  showing 
nothing  but  most  gorgeous  coloring,  most  perfect  pro- 
portions, but  to  any  one  who  was  fortunate  enough  to 
gather  and  wear  it,  giving  out  the  most  delicious  per- 
fumes. I  had  my  dream,  you  know  how  it  was  dissolved, 
how  I  did  not  win  the  rose  nor  wear  it." 

"Yes,  I  know,  I  know,"  said  Sybil  hastily,  fearing 
that  the  fresh  opening  of  the  old  wounds  might  give  him 
pain. 

"  I  did  not  win  nor  wear  it,"  repeated  Vernon,  "  nor 
am  I  the  least  regretful  that  I  did  not ;  the  possession 
of  such  a  regal  beauty  would  have  made  me  proud  but 
not  happy,  and  what  would  it  have  availed  me  now? 
No,  Sybil,  even  if  I  could  see  God's  daylight  again,  and 
were  I  seeking  a  wife,  a  companion,  I  would  search 
through  the  world  not  so  much  for  a  lovely  face,  but  a 
truthful  one,  not  so  much  for  a  Juno-like  form  to  gaze 
upon  admiringly,  as  for  one  pliant  and  yielding  that  I 
could  nestle  in  my  heai't  of  hearts,  and  that  would  feel 
at  home  there.  But  we  have  forgotten  our  first  topic, 
these  city  guests  who  are  accustomed  to  be  amused  all 
the  day  and  half  of  the  night ;  all  that  we  can  do  is  to 


Vernon  Grove.  125 

make  them  welcome  in  our  quiet  way,  and  take  their 
visit  as  a  dispensation  by  no  means  agreeable,  and  do 
our  best  under  the  circumstances ;  then  you  must  tell 
the  housekeeper  to  do  hers,  too,  and  let  it  be  generally 
known  among  the  household,  and  I  doubt  not  with  their 
memory  of  city  habits,  and  your  observant  eyes,  that 
everything  will  go  on  smoothly  and  well.  And 
Sybil" 

"  Mr.  Vernon  " 

"  About  yourself;  send  to  the  city  for  any  addition  to 
your  wardrobe  that  you  may  need ;  I  would  have  my 
young  protege  looking  her  best  in  my  sister's  eyes." 

Vernon  seemed  lost  for  a  moment  in  deep  thought,  a 
new  emotion  stirred  the  heart  of  each,  and  Sybil  was 
silent  too.  "  Was  she  fair  and  bright-eyed,  and  would 
that  sister  look  approvingly  upon  her,  or  was  she  other- 
wise ?"  he  said  to  himself. 

"  Do  I  approach  any  of  the  types  of  beauty  which  he 
has  mentioned,  Mrs.  Clayton's  or  Miss  Percy's,  or  that 
other,  the  beauty  of  Truth,  or  am  I  far  removed  from 
each  and  all  ?"  she  thought. 

"  You  will  look  your  best  ?"  at  last  he  said  again. 

"  As  a  moth  flying  around  a  star,"  she  answered  some- 
what sadly,  as  she  thought  of  what  she  had  heard  of  Isa- 
bel and  her  loveliness. 

"  Ah !  is  it  so  then  ?"  he  asked  somewhat  disappointed, 
though  scarcely  daring  to  confess  it  to  himself,  but  it 
was  only  for  a  moment;  he  loved  her  soul,  not  her 
perishable  body. 

"  You  said  that  you  liked  the  truthful  face  best,"  she 
said  timidly ;  "  Mrs.  Clayton,  I  trust,  will  find  truth  and 
sincerity  in  her  brother's  adopted  sister." 


126  Vernon  Grove. 

"  Yes,  dear  child,  I  know  it  as  though  I  could  see  it, 
and  it  is  God's  most  precious  seal  imprinted  on  what  He 
has  created;  keep  on  the  garments  of  truth,  dear  Sybil, 
be  what  you  are,  and  the  moth  will  not  be  overpowered 
by  the  lustre  of  the  star ;"  and  with  these  kind  comfort- 
ing words  he  left  her. 

Many  a  moment  of  longing  had  Sybil  before  the 
guests  arrived  to  flee  away  to  her  old  cottage  home, 
but  she  gradually  overcame  her  timidity  when  she  saw 
that  no  responsibility  whatever  would  fall  upon  her,  for 
the  well-trained  servants  and  excellent  housekeeper  soon 
had  everything  in  readiness,  and  even  seemed  to  apply 
themselves  with  additional  alacrity  to  their  preparations 
at  the  prospect  of  the  monotony  of  their  quiet  life  being 
broken  by  Mrs.  Clayton  and  her  attendants,  and  at  last 
she  not  only  became  reconciled  herself  to  the  looked-for 
innovation,  but  anxious  for  it  too. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

"  With  silken  coats  and  caps,  and  golden  rings, 
With  ruffs  and  cuffs,  and  farthingales  and  things." 

"  Oh,  to  see  or  hear  her  singing !  scarce  I  know  which  is  divinest — 
For  her  looks  sing  too — she  modulates  her  gestures  to  the  tune  ; 
And  her  mouth  stirs  with  the  song,  like  song ;  and  when  the  notes 

are  finest, 

'Tia  the  eyes  that  shoot  out  vocal  light,  and  seem  to  swell  them  on." 

MRS.  BROWNING. 

ON  the  day  appointed,  the  party  from  the  city  arrived, 
but  an  hour  sooner  than  was  expected.  Sybil  had  taken 
a  walk,  and  Vernon  alone  remained  to  receive  them. 

Isabel  loved  her  brother  as  much  as  such  a  heart  as 
hers  could  love,  with  its  evil  impulses  unchecked,  and  its 
good  ones  not  encouraged,  and  rushing  into  his  arms, 
she  covered  his  face  with  kisses.  Hers  was  a  changeful 
nature,  flickering  with  lights  and  shadows  ;  not,  perhaps, 
wilfully  sinful,  but  too  faulty  to  inspire  much  respect ; 
she  would  do  a  grievous  wrong  to  a  friend,  who,  dis- 
gusted at  once  with  her  levity  and  inconsistency,  deter- 
mined to  avoid  her  ever  after ;  but  in  another  instant 
some  kind  act  of  Isabel's,  and  her  lovely  winning  smile, 
effaced  aU  remembrance  of  her  folly.  Such  a  character 
is  not  an  uncommon  one,  and  it  is  impossible  to  harbor 
resentment  long  against  these  April-like  beings,  who 
have  tears  as  well  as  sunshine  at  command.  It  was  no 


1 28  Vernon  Grove. 

wonder,  then,  that  Vernon,  remembering  that  she  was 
his  sister,  the  only  tie  of  blood  that  he  had  upon  earth, 
and  that  they  had  been  parted  for  years,  returned  her 
affectionate  caresses  with  an  almost  equal  warmth. 

"  And  now,"  said  Isabel,  gracefully  disengaging  her- 
self from  his  arms,  "  you  must  not  neglect  your  other 
guest — give  me  your  hand,  Richard,  and  let  your  heart 
go  with  it  in  a  welcome." 

He  gave  it,  and  felt  it  placed  by  her  in  another  hand, 
a  beautiful  hand,  but  not  like  Sybil's.  A  shudder  crept 
over  him  as  he  felt  its  clasp.  It  was  one  that  he  had 
pressed  before,  and  cared  never  to  press  again.  No,  it 
was  not  like  Sybil's  any  more  that  the  heart  was  like 
Sybil's.  The  hand  of  the  one  was  perfect  in  its  propor- 
tions, like  that  of  a  statue,  and  artists  had  moulded  their 
finest  creations  from  its  form ;  the  fingers  were  tapered 
to  a  point,  the  well-shaped  nail  polished  to  glossiness, 
but  a  certain  hardness  like  the  marble  which  it  copied,  a 
coldness,  met  your  touch;  but  Sybil's  hand  was  soft, 
tremulous,  yielding,  and  warm,  with  a  palm  like  the  faint 
blush  of  a  rose  leaf;  one  felt  truth  there,  but  in  that 
other  hand,  lying  in  Vernon's,  there  was  none. 

"  Florence  Percy,"  said  Isabel,  but  she  might  have 
left  the  words  unuttered,  for  Vernon  knew  it  before 
they  were  said,  and  he  stammered  out  something  which 
he  hoped  sounded  like  a  polite  welcome, — but  was  it  ? 
Scarcely. 

"Yes,  I  knew  that  you  would  be  glad  to  see  us, 
Richard,  I  told  Florence  so,  and  assured  her  that  you 
had  not  forgotten  those  happy  hours  of  the  past,"  said 
Isabel.  "  I  did  my  very  best  to  bring  Clayton  with  us, 
but  he  resisted  all  my  fascinations ;  I  even  tried  to  charm 


Vernon  Grove.  129 

back  his  romance,  and  talked  touchingly  of  the  woods 
and  streams,  but  all  in  vain,  and  so  I  concluded  to  yield 
myself  gracefully  to  the  inevitable  fate  of  coming  with- 
out him.  He  is  just  as  good,  Richard,  just  as  indulgent 
as  ever,  and  has  such  a  pleasant  way  of  being  obstinate 
that  one  cannot  get  angry  with  him.  The  day  before 
we  came  I  actually  forced  some  tears  into  my  eyes,  by 
way  of  additional  inducement,  to  show  him  how  I  longed 
for  his  company,  but  he  either  did  not  or  would  not 
notice  them,  and  dried  them  most  effectually  by  saying 
in  a  tone,  entirely  divested  of  all  romance,  that  he  could 
not  come  because  he  had  some  grand  speculation  on 
hand  which  would  yield  him,  if  attended  to,  several 
thousands  ;  and  then  by  way  of  comfort  for  my  disap- 
pointment, he  said  that  he  supposed  I  wanted  a  new 
robe  de  chambre  for  the  country,  some  unostentatious 
jewelry  which  would  not  dazzle  the  dwellers  of  Arcadia, 
and  before  I  could  answer  no,  he  poured  a  handful  of 
gold  into  my  lap  and  departed.  That  is  always  the  way 
he  treats  me,  and  often  when  I  know  that  I  deserve  a 
scolding,  for  some  giddy  act  of  mine,  he  blesses  me  instead ; 
but  I  must  end  with  what  I  began,  and  tell  you  how  it 
comes  to  pass  that  Florence  is  here.  I  did  not  want  to 
bring  with  me  any  of  the  lords  of  creation,  for  the  effort 
to  entertain  them  with  no  externals  but  the  skies  and  fields 
would  have  annihilated  me.  Nothing  remained  then 
but  to  bring  some  one  with  me  who  is  so  agreeable,  and 
so  chimes  in  with  all  that  is  beautiful  in  art  and  nature, 
that  she  would  but  seem  as  a  part  of  the  fine  landscapes, 
while  I  might  enjoy  her  society  as  such ;  so  I  looked 
around,  and,  lo,  Florence  appeared  and  came." 


130  Vernon  Grove. 

"  She  forgot  to  say,  however,"  said  Florence  in  return, 
"that  she  herself  is  the  sun  which  brightens  the  land- 
scapes, and  everything  around." 

Isabel  thanked  her  friend  with  a  gratified  smile,  for 
flattery  was  the  food  that  she  loved,  and  Florence 
knew  it. 

"  We  have  been  talking  so  busily,"  she  resumed  "that 
I  had  quite  forgotten  I  meant  to  look  about  upon  the 
beauties  and  conveniences  of  your  house  before  we  went 
to  our  rooms.  Really,  you  are  no  anchorite  after  all, 
living  in  a  hut  on  bread  and  water,  but  have  a  most 
charming  habitation  here,  which  breathes  unmistakably 
of  civilization.  There  is  one  thing,  however,  in  your 
manage  which  astonishes  me,  and  that  is  that  you  are 
content  to  live  here  year  after  year  with  no  one  but  ser- 
vants and  that  superannuated  sickly  dame  and  her 
rustic  grandchild.  It  is  bad  taste,  to  say  the  least  of  it, 
but  you  are  not  utterly  lost  to  taste  and  refinement, 
Richard,  as  one  can  see  by  your  pictures.  "What  an 
exquisite  Raphael  that  is ;  did  you  ever  behold  anything 
so  soul  touching  as  that  Madonna's  eyes,  Florence  ?  and 
that,"  she  exclaimed  with  clasped  hands,  "  I  suppose  is 
the  Vandyck  that  with  good  reason  you  gave  such  a 
sum  for  last  year ;  I  must  look  at  it  to-morrow,  and  the 
next  day,  and  the  next." 

Isabel  had  at  last  made  the  circuit  of  the  room  in  her 
tour  of  curiosity,  and  stopped  at  length  quite  breathless 
at  a  window,  which  looked  out  upon  the  extensive  green 
lawn,  which  it  was  Vernon's  pride  ever  to  have  in  excel- 
lent order,  and  no  one  could  fail  to  be  delighted  with  its 
velvet  smoothness,  as  it  stretched  in  gradual  slope  to 


Vernon  Grove.  131 

the  woods  beyond.  Here  Isabel  paused  for  a  moment, 
but  her  silence  was  not  of  long  continuance,  being 
broken  once  more  with  an  exclamation  of  delight. 

"Pictures  within  and  pictures  without,"  she  ex- 
claimed :  "  Ah,  what  a  vision  of  loveliness !  Who  is 
that  exquisite  creature  approaching  the  house,  Richard  ? 
Her  hair  is  of  that  pale  golden  color,  so  beautiful  and  so 
rare,  her  eyes  the  most  heavenly  blue,  her  cheek  just 
flushed  enough  for  refinement,  and  her  complexion  that 
creamy  healthy  white  which  the  painters  love  so 
much." 

"  I  know  not,"  said  Vernon,  amused  in  spite  of  him- 
self with  Isabel's  interest  in  all  around  her,  "unless  you 
have  made  a  vow  to  see  only  what  is  beautiful  in  the 
world,  and  color  everything  from  within,  or  perhaps  you 
have  improvised  some  maid  of  honor  to  attend  you  as 
lovely  as  yourself;  or  stay,  will  you  have  one  more  sug- 
gestion, it  may  be  that  a  naiad,  fresh  from  her  sylvan 
toilet,  has  come  to  ask  your  orders." 

"  You  do  but  jest,  Mr.  Vernon,"  said  Florence, 
"while  Isabel  is  in  earnest,  and  this  apparition  is  as 
lovely  as  she  has  described — there,  stand  back  a  little, 
Isabel,  and  let  her  still  be  unconscious  that  we  are  here ; 
see  what  a  pretty  pantomiu.-j  she  is  acting  as  she 
approaches ;  now  she  weaves  her  flowers  into  a  garland, 
and  like  a  ballet  dancer  has  thrown  them  over  her  head 
with  a  graceful  movement ;  now  she  twines  them  into  a 
wreath,  and  apes  the  graces  of  a  crowned  queen,  and, 
ah — see  again,  how  naturally  she  arranges -them  into  an 
artistic  bouquet,  and  offers  them  with  a  coquettish  air  to 
some  imaginary  swain." 

"All  that   she    does  seems  well   done,"   whispered 


132  Vernon  Grove. 

Isabel  in  return ;  "  and,  oh,  what  beauty,  what  perfect 
beauty  is  hers !  For  the  first  time  in  my  life  you  must 
forgive  me  for  raving  about  perfections  which  are  not 
yours,  Florence.  Hush,  she  is  seating  herself  at  the 
foot  of  that  huge  leafy  tree ;  let  us  listen,  our  naiad  is 
beginning  to  sing." 

The  truth  was  gradually  dawning  upon  Vernon,  and 
it  came  upon  him  with  a  glare  almost  too  dazzling,  as 
that  beloved  voice  rose  upon  his  ear.  His  strong  frame 
trembled,  he  grew  pale,  then  flushed.  Every  emotion 
of  the  human  heart  seemed  to  gather  in  his  breast. 
Sybil,  beautiful !  she  was  his,  his  own.  Sybil,  beautiful ! 
ah,  fatal  gift,  the  fairest  flowers  were  plucked  the  soon- 
est, and  he  would,  lose  this  flower  he  prized  so  much. 
Love,  jealousy,  anger,  fear,  tenderness,  all  were  felt  by 
him  in  their  full  intensity,  but  gradually  as  that  perfect 
voice,  singing  the  impassioned  Italian  music  which  he 
had  taught  it,  came  wafted  in  at  the  window  together 
with  the  perfume  of  the  flowers,  every  emotion  was 
calmed  save  love,  complete  undying  love,  a  part  of  him 
then,  and  for  ever,  and  as  the  last  note  died  away  in  the 
hush  that  followed,  he  found  voice  to  say  softly, 

"  It  is  my  little  Sybil  Gray." 

Then  the  curtains  of  an  opposite  window  parted, 
making  a  frame  for  the  strangely  beautiful  face  that 
looked  in,  and  which  blushed  scarlet  at  finding  strangers 
there,  and  at  feeling  that  they  had  heard  her  unbidden 
song;  but  Vernon,  who  had  heard  her  light  footstep, 
re-assured  her  by  the  kind  tone  of  his  voice,  and  she 
entered,  offering  her  hand  gracefully,  but  timidly,  to 
the  new-comers.  A  regular  introduction,  all  intuitive- 
ly felt,  would  have  been  awkward  and  out  of  place. 


Vernon  Grove.  133 

Sybil  herself  felt  it,  and  broke  the  ice  by  offering  her 
flowers. 

"  How  beautiful,"  said  Isabel,  glancing  more  at  the  fair 
girl  who  proffered  them,  than  at  the  flowers  themselves. 

"  Yes,"  she  answered,  "  they  are,  indeed.  I  tried  to 
gather  the  prettiest  I  could  find  to  arrange  in  your 
rooms  before  you  came,  and  as  is  the  fashion  in  some 
countries,  to  crown  your  pillows  with  a  cluster  of  sweet 
roses,  but  I  fear  that  I  lingered  too  long  on  the  way." 

"  You  are  very  kind,"  returned  Isabel,  "  you  must, 
however,  not  lay  the  defeat  of  your  plans  at  your  own 
door,  but  upon  our  horses,  who  were  fresher  than  we 
imagined,  and  so  we  came  the  last  few  miles  more 
rapidly,  arriving  here  an  hour  before  the  specified 
time." 

"  I  hope,  Sybil,"  said  Vernon,  "  that  in  your  zeal  for 
others  you  have  not  forgotten  your  daily  tribute  to  me." 

"  That  I  never  forget,"  she  answered  gravely,  "  it 
would  be  ungrateful  indeed ;  here  they  are,  your  own 
favorites,  and  a  cluster  of  more  beautiful  violets  I  have 
never  seen." 

"  How  wonderful,"  said  Isabel  quickly,  "  the  violet  is 
your  favorite,  too,  is  it  not,  Florence  ?" 

Sybil  was  just  extending  her  hand  to  place  them  hi 
Yemen's,  when  both  started,  and  the  fragrant  cluster 
fell  to  the  ground. 

He  remembered  that  it  was  her  favorite  flower,  and 
she — she  was  startled  at  the  name  spoken  by  Isabel. 

Florence  !  it  seemed  familiar,  it  seemed  linked  with  a 
host  of  cruel  memories,  a  broken  trust,  desertion,  pain 
inflicted  by  one  whom  Vernon  had  loved.  Then  the 
memories  took  a  more  definite  form,  and  Vernon's  pqst 


134  Vernon  Grove. 

rose  clearly  before  her,  and  lifting  her  glance  to  the  face 
of  that  stately  beauty  before  her,  whose  cold  searching 
eyes  looked  her  through  and  through,  her  heart  told  her 
that  there  she  stood,  the  destroyer  of  his  happiness,  the 
original  of  the  glorious  picture  upon  whose  reverse 
might  have  been  written  the  word  deceit. 

As  Sybil  stooped  to  raise  the  fallen  flowers,  she 
mechanically  looked  up  once  more ;  still  that  piercing 
glance  was  upon  her,  those  hawk-like  eyes  watching  the 
crouching  dove,  but  she  turned  away  from  their  strange 
spell,  and  again  offered  the  flowers  to  Vernon. 

"  Take  them  away,  Sybil,"  he  said  in  a  low  tone  of 
voice,  "  I  had  forgotten  that  she  cared  for  them,  take 
them  far  away." 

Sybil  left  the  room  in  obedience  to  that  whisper,  the 
guests  thought  for  some  domestic  order  from  Vernon, 
but  in  reality  to  be  alone.  She  knew  not  why,  but  her 
heart  seemed  bursting  with  some  strange  new  feeling, 
which  she  could  not  analyze.  Florence  Percy  here, 
she  thought,  under  this  very  roof!  Florence  loving  the 
same  flowers  that  Vemon  loved !  And  then  how  superb 
she  was  in  her  majestic  beauty.  Isabel  was  lovely,  win- 
ning, fascinating,  but  Florence  was  regal.  Besides, 
what  right  had  she  to  look  so  tenderly  upon  Vernon,  so 
curiously  upon  herself?  How  imposing  she  was,  how 
rich  the  dress  that  enveloped  her  magnificent  form ; 
how  visibly  a  certain  sort  of  power  seemed  to  hang 
about  her,  a  kind  of  "  I  dare  and  I  will,"  which  awed 
and  frightened.  Dared  and  willed  what  f  A  stronger 
emotion  swept  over  Sybil's  heart  than  she  had  ever 
before  experienced,  an  emotion,  which  she  thought,  if 
continued  for  many  days,  might  kill  her.  There  was  no 


Vernon  Grove.  135 

good  angel  near  to  tell  her  that  it  was  the  fiend  of 
jealousy,  and  its  fearful  fire  burnt  strong  and  clear. 
She  sought  a  retired  part  of  the  garden  near  the  artifi- 
cial lake,  which  flowed  as  clear  as  crystal  at  her  feet,  and 
a  thought  something  akin  to  revenge  came  to  her,  and 
she  looked  around  with  a  guilty  glance  before  it  gave 
birth  to  a  deed,  to  see  that  she  was  unobserved. 

"He  shall  not  love  what  she  loves,"  she  said  pas- 
sionately, and  with  an  impulsiveness  new  to  her  gentle 
nature,  she  tore  the  flowers  one  by  one  apart,  and  threw 
them  into  the  stream. 

But  even  as  the  breeze  wafted  them  away,  her  mood 
changed,  the  reaction,  which  could  not  be  delayed  long, 
came  to  her  in  a  flow  of  bitter  tears,  and  holding  up  the 
picture  of  herself  to  herself,  she  prayed  for  pardon, 
prayed  that  the  hour  might  pass  quickly  away,  pleaded 
for  strength  against  temptation,  and  for  more  effectual 
piety,  despising  herself  for  her  weakness,  and  most  sor- 
rowful for  her  forgetfulness  of  her  duty ;  then  fearing 
that  her  absence  would  be  marked,  entered  the  house 
once  more,  apparently  as  calm  as  the  stream  upon  which 
the  rejected  flowers  were  floating. 

Afterwards  when  she  beheld  Florence  seeking  Ver- 
non's  society,  and  offering  him  the  aid  which  he  was  too 
polite  to  refuse,  and  which  Sybil  felt  her  right,  she  ex- 
amined her  heart  carefully,  probing  as  she  thought,  its 
most  secret  depths,  and  came  to  the  following  conclu- 
sion : 

"  He  has  been  to  me  as  a  brother ;  I  have  led  him  in 
his  blindness,  I  have  read  to  him,  talked  to  him,  sung  to 
him ;  we  two  have  been  alone  in  joy  and  sorrow,  and 
now  another  comes  and  takes  my  place ;  it  is  natural, 


136  Vernon  Grove. 

then,  that  I  should  feel  my  rights  infringed  upon ;  but 
she  is  not  to  blame,  she  knows  not  what  I  have  been  to 
him,  how  I  have  watched  him  in  sickness  and  health ; 
no,  she  is  not  to  blame — and  to  him  there  may  be  a  fas- 
cination in  being  once  more  in  the  presence  of  one  who 
has  been  so  dearly  loved  as  she  has  been,  he  may  like 
to  hear  the  tones  of  her  voice,  and  feel  the  pressure  of 
her  hand ;  it  may  bring  back  to  him  the  happy  hours 
of  his  youth,  when  it  was  almost  his  religion  to  worship 
at  her  shrine ;  but,  oh,  how  could  she,  how  could  she 
after  all  that  has  passed,  after  she  has  scorned  him  and 
been  scorned  alike  in  return,  come  into  his  presence,  to 
his  very  hearthstone  again  ?" 

After  Florence  had,  as  she  thought,  defined  Sybil's 
position  in  the  household,  that  is,  after  she  had  come  to 
the  conclusion  that  Vernou  simply  regarded  her  as  an 
interesting  child,  whom  he  had  trained  according  to  his 
ideas,  to  womanhood ;  after  she  had  considered  the  wide 
difference  in  their  ages,  which  seemed  to  forbid  any- 
thing like  the  perfect  sympathy  which  she  thought  she 
herself  could  feel  for  him,  and  he  for  her;  and  when  she 
saw  that  the  retiring  girl  in  no  way  interfered  with  her 
own  plans,  she,  as  well  as  Isabel,  looked  with  wonder 
upon  her  singular  loveliness  and  varied  gifts,  and  as- 
sumed a  patronizing  air  to  Vernon's  young  charge.  But 
though  Isabel  was  most  fascinating,  and  Florence  kind- 
ness itself,  Sybil  did  not  feel  quite  at  ease  with  them, 
and  spent  even  more  of  her  time  than  formerly  with  her 
grandmother,  or  in  the  quiet  of  her  own  apartment, 
while  Vernon,  who  kept  his  secret  so  well,  longed  for 
the  visit  to  be  at  an  end. 

He  was  weary  of  the  rustle  of  silks  and  satins,  the,  to 


Vernon  Grove.  137 

him,  unmeaning  city  gossip,  and  for  the  jewels  and  gew- 
gaws which  they  discussed  with  an  interest  worthy  of 
a  better  theme,  he  cared  not.  Those  busy  fashionists 
seemed  to  him  too  much  like  a  mirror  of  his  former  self, 
and  while  rejoicing  that  he  had  outlived  their  tastes, 
he  sighed  for  a  return  of  his  quiet  evenings  with  Sybil. 
After  a  moment's  reflection,  Florence's  course  of  con- 
duct and  singular  intrusion  ceased  to  astonish  him,  as 
he  recalled  what  she  had  done  in  the  past,  but  he  shrank 
from  the  daily  contact  of  her  proffered  hand,  and  avoided' 
her  whenever  he  could  do  so  without  marked  rudeness. 

It  was  with  difficulty,  however,  that  he  could  suppress 
his  old  irritation  of  manner,  as  he  seldom  had  an  oppor- 
tunity of  being  alone  with  her  who,  by  a  word,  could 
calm  him ;  for  in  all  his  walks  and  drives,  his  morning 
and  evening  pursuits,  Florence  and  Isabel  were  his 
constant  companions. 

"Here  we  have  entered  upon  the  Sabbath,"  said 
Isabel  one  bright  morning  in  a  languid  tone,  "  is  there 
no  church  in  the  neighborhood,  Richard,  to  which  we 
can  go  ?  Of  all  things,  what  most  wearies  me  is  a  Sun- 
day in  the  country ;  the  world  is  even  more  still  here 
than  it  is  in  town,  and  nature  seems  to  put  her  finger  on 
her  lip  and  whisper,  'hush.'  Even  a  sermon  from  a 
poor  drawling  minister  would  serve  to  relieve  the  mono- 
tony of  the  day." 

Vernon  believed  that  there  was  a  church  somewhere. 
"But  do  you  never  go?"  asked  Isabel,  "you  did  so 
when  you  lived  in  the  city,  and  therefore  have  gone 
backward  instead  of  forward  as  regards  the  culture  of 
the  soul,  though,  indeed,  Richard,  youx  fields  there  are 
patterns  for  agriculturists." 


138  Vernon  Grove. 

"With  somewhat  of  yom%  dread  of  drawling  ministers, 
Isabel,"  returned  her  brother,  "I  confess  that  I  have 
never  gone,  but  Sybil  can  give  you  all  needed  informa- 
tion, for  though  the  church  is  several  miles  distant,  my 
ponderous  family  coach  is  ordered  through  rain  and  sun- 
shine, and  she  makes  a  weekly  pilgrimage  in  it  there." 

"But  you  will  go  with  us  to-day,  since  we  desire  it?" 
pleaded  Isabel ;  though  we  are  distinguished  strangers, 
lions,  we  need  some  one  to  show  us  off.  It  will  be  so 
awkward  to  sail  up  the  aisle  unattended  by  an  escort. 
I  am  sure  that  Florence  will  guide  you  carefully  if  we  go." 

"  No,  I  cannot,  will  not,"  said  Vernon  decidedly,  "  if 
I  have  one  aversion  above  another,  it  is  to  hear  a  cant- 
ing mediocre  preacher,  and  I  suppose  that  they  have 
one  of  the  worst  kind  here." 

"  You  are  mistaken,"  replied  Sybil,  quickly,  and  with 
more  warmth  than  was  usual  in  her  manner,  "  he  is  elo- 
quent sometimes,  and  always  solemn,  and  being  young 
and  ambitious,  he  is  in  a  fair  way  to  improve  ;  besides, 
he  told  me  one  day  after  service,  when  we  were  speaking 
about  a  sermon  which  he  had  just  preached,  and  which 
came  home  especially  to  my  heart,  that  it  was  his  aim 
and  endeavor  to  excel,  and  he  thought  that  much  more 
good  could  be  achieved  by  an  intelligent  pastor  who 
kept  up  with  the  age,  than  by  a  man  who  trod  for  ever 
the  beaten  ground  of  conservatism  and  hackneyed  cus- 
tom. His  theme  had  been  upon  the  parable  of  the  wise 
and  foolish  virgins,  which  he  treated  in  a  new  and  pow- 
erful manner,  at  least,"  she  added  flushing  at  the  notice 
that  she  had  drawn  upon  herself,  "  as  far  as  I  can  judge 
from  my  small  experience  and  the  sermons  I  have  read 
in  books." 


Vernon  Grove.  139 

Isabel  and  Florence  exchanged  significant  glances. 

"  Your  defence  of  the  young  manf  said  the  latter 
pointedly,  "  is  most  eloquent,  Sybil,  and  you  appear  to 
be  very  good  friends." 

"  Yes,  very,"  she  replied  quietly,  quite  unconscious  of 
the  weight  put  upon  what  she  had  said. 

The  words  struck  a  hai*sh  chord  in  Vernon's  breast. 
lie  had  often  heard  her  mention  the  preacher  whom  she 
had  listened  to  weekly,  and  sometimes  as  an  exercise 
she  gave  him  a  synopsis  of  his  sermons,  but  instead  of 
being  a  young  and  attractive  man,  he  had  always  fan- 
cied him  a  grey-haired  individual,  with  a  monotonous 
drawl  and  a  puritanical  air,  but  this  revelation  of  Sybil's 
inspired  him  with  a  sudden  fancy  to  hear  him  preach 
and  to  judge  for  himself. 

"  I  think  that  I  will  go  to  church  to-day,"  he  said 
suddenly.  "  I  have  a  great  desire  to  know  if  Sybil  has 
not  exaggerated  the  wonderful  talents  of  her  spiritual 
guide ;"  and  he  rang  and  ordered  the  carriage. 

"I  did  not  say  that  his  talents  were  wonderful," 
returned  Sybil  gravely,  "  and  I  think  that  no  one  should 
go  to  church  from  curiosity,  even  to  hear  a  celebrated 
preacher,  for  the  most  inferior  preachers  can  impart  to  us 
some  good  if  we  choose  to  receive  it.  There  may  be 
something  about  a  man's  circumstances  and  character 
which  impresses  us  favorably,  and  this  is  singularly  the 
case  with  Mr.  Clarke.  He  has  been  the  support  of  an 
aged  mother  for  years,  and  his  sister  likewise  has  been 
dependent  on  him.  His  support  was  very  scanty  until 
he  came  here,  but  now  his  salary  is  not  only  sufficient  to 
maintain  himself  and  them,  but  not  long  ago  he  went  to 
the  city  to  be  married,  and  was  expected  to  return  last 


140  Vernon  Grove. 

week  with  his  bride,  to  whom  he  has  been  attached  a  long 
time,  a  beautiful  girl,  they  say,  who  leaves  the  luxuries 
of  her  father's  house  to  share  with  him  his  humble  home." 

Vernon  breathed  freely  again.  He  had  now  no  fear 
that  the  shepherd  would  steal  his  little  lamb  to  nestle  her 
in  his  own  bosom,  and  his  desire  to  go  to  church  suddenly 
abated,  while  Isabel  and  Florence  went  to  prepare  their 
elaborate  toilets,  and  he  and  Sybil  for  the  first  time  for 
many  days  were  left  alone. 

"  How  delightful  it  is  to  think  that  you  are  going  to 
church,  Mr.  Vernon,"  said  Sybil  joyfully,  "  it  will  be  so 
pleasant  to  have  you  with  us." 

"  And  why,  Sybil  ? — your  paragon  of  a  preacher  will 
discourse  no  more  eloquently  for  my  presence.  I  have 
just  altered  my  mind,  and  am  determined  not  to  go." 

Sybil's  countenance  fell. 

"  And  will  you  not  reconsider  it  and  change  again  ?" 
she  said  sadly,  "  one  can  afford  to  be  fickle  where  a  good 
cause  is  concerned." 

"  Wherefore  should  I  change  ?"  said  Vernon  seating 
himself  more  comfortably  in  the  luxurious  arm-chair  into 
which  he  had  thrown  himself.  "  It  seems  to  me  that  any 
change  from  this  most  easy  posture  would  be  for  the 
worse." 

"  Think  how  objectless  your  Sabbath  life  is,"  she  said, 
taking  a  chair  near  him.  "  I  have  long  desired  to  con- 
verse with  you  upon  this  subject,  but  have  never  had  the 
courage  to  broach  it ;  but  now,  to-day,  the  sister-spirit 
is  strong  within  me,  and  I  must  speak.  Dear  Mr.  Vernon, 
those  words,  '  Remember  the  Sabbath,'  were  meant  to 
be  observed,  and  not  passed  over  lightly  ;  and  how  can 
we  better  recall  them  than  in  a  house  dedicated  to  the 


Vernon  Grove.  141 

worship  of  Him  who  commanded  the  observance  of  a 
day  set  apart  ?" 

"  I  can  carry  on  my  religious  services  at  home,  Sybil ; 
nay,  I  would  be  willing  to  compare  my  thoughts  with 
those  of  certain  church-worshippers  to-day  after  the 
service,  very  much,  I  think,  to  the  advantage  of  mine." 

"I  doubt  it  not,"  said  Sybil,  still  more  earnestly, 
because  pained  by  Richard's  manner,  "  but  think  of  the 
example  you  set.  Suppose  that  all  remained  at  home  as 
you  do,  what  would  be  the  use  of  the  solemn  bells  calling 
us  to  worship  ?  All  the  charm  and  vitality  of  the  Sabbath 
would  be  gone.  Only  go  to-day — just  to-day,  Mr. 
Vernon,  and  I  trust  that  what  you  hear  and  feel  will  take 
you  there  again." 

Vernon  silently  mused  awhile.  He  had  not  been  an 
inattentive  listener  to  her  pleading  words  spoken  so  truly 
and  in  so  good  a  cause, — and  at  length  he  replied  to  her. 

"You  are  a  sweet  preacher,  and  a  most  persuasive 
one,"  he  said,  "  and  to  answer  your  appeal  candidly,  I 
must  tell  you  that  awhile  ago  when  I  ordered  the  carriage, 
I  had  determined  to  go  for  a  far  different  motive  than  any 
reason  that  you  have  given ;  but  now  I  verily  believe 
that  you  have  convinced  me  that  it  is  my  duty,  and  more- 
over, because  you  would  like  to  have  me  accompany  you 
I  will  go — but  with  one  proviso,  that  you  will  promise  to 
lead  me  in.  I  trust  that  I  have  not  so  far  forgotten  my 
early  training  as  to  enter  a  house  dedicated  to  God  with 
unholy  thoughts,  and  only  with  your  pure,  devout  spirit 
near  me  could  I  feel  as  I  ought.  If  that  hand  all  covered 
with  jewels  which  has  led  me  lately  should  guide  me,  I 
think  that  I  should  rebel, — and  I  want  to  feel  humble 
to-day,  Sybil." 


142  Vernon  Grove. 

How  good  and  gentle  he  seemed  to  her  to  be  growing ; 
how  that  one  wish  for  humility  raised  him  in  her  eyes. 

Xo  louder  sound  of  triumph  rang  from  the  silvery 
tongue  of  the  humble  church,  no  higher  pointed  the 
tapering  spire  up  to  the  blue  heavens,  no  greener  waved 
the  churchyard  trees  as  the  quartette  from  Vernon  Grove 
alighted  at  the  lowly  portal ;  the  only  change  that  could 
be  noticed  was  in  the  eyes  of  the  simple  villagers  under 
Mr.  Clarke's  care,  as  the  unusual  rustling  of  silken 
garments  attracted  their  attention,  and  for  a  moment 
made  them  forgetful  of  their  prayers;  but  could  the 
hearts  of  the  new-comers  have  been  examined  as  faith- 
fully, they  would  have  had  fresh  cause  for  wonder. 

First  came  Vernon  leaning  upon  the  arm  of  the  beauti- 
ful girl,  whom  they  have  been  accustomed  to  see  treading 
the  aisle  with  downcast  eyes  alone ;  then  Isabel,  arrayed 
in  all  the  mysteries  of  fashionable  attire;  and  lastly 
Florence,  with  a  cloud  upon  her  fair  brow,  all  unfit  for 
that  holy  place. 

And  their  hearts  ? 

Vernon  was  conscious  of  being  in  a  strange  situation 
— glad,  yet  confused ;  satisfied,  inasmuch  as  he  thought 
that  he  had  done  his  duty,  yet  awkward'and  nervous 
because  it  was  all  so  new,  not  having  entered  among 
an  vtliing  like  an  assemblage  of  persons  since  the  visitation 
of  his  blindness,  and  knowing  that  many  eyes  were 
curiously  watching  him.  Isabel  was  looking  with  a 
mixture  of  amusement  and  pity  upon  those  "  unfortunate 
people,"  as  she  called  them  in  a  whisper  to  Florence, 
whose  bonnets  were  so  many  years  behind  the  fashion, 
and  whose  scant  dresses  excited  her  sympathy  as  she 
swept  imperially  by, — while  Florence,  alike  indifferent 


Vernon  Grove.  143 

to  place  and  people,  only  felt  a  bitter  pang  in  her  breast 
that  her  proffered  hand  had  been  rejected  by  Vernon, 
and  his  words,  "I  thank  you,  but  Sybil  will  lead  me 
to-day,"  continued  to  sound  in  her  ears  far  above  the 
peal  of  the  Sabbath  bells. 

Even  our  pure  Sybil's  heart  beat  with  a  feeling  that 
was  not  all  religion ;  a  joy  scarcely  dedicated  to  God 
shone  in  her  eyes,  for  Vernon  was  with  her,  and  it  was 
a  triumph, — Vernon  would  soon  be  praying  for  peace 
and  pardon  at  her  side. 

The  minister,  under  the  influence  of  his  new  found 
joy,  preached  solemnly  and  feelingly ;  his  life  was  so  full 
now  of  earthly  happiness  with  his  mother  and  sister  well 
provided  for  at  last,  looking  witli  pride  upon  their  young 
son  and  brother,  and  his  bride  with  downcast  eyes 
listening  to  his  words  and  rejoicing  that  she  had  chosen 
so  well,  that  he  felt  the  need  of  some  solemn  self-admoni- 
tion as  a  counterpoise  to  his  intense  happiness,  lest  he 
should  forget  in  his  temporal  felicity  the  heaven  for 
which  he  was  striving.  It  was,  then,  with  a  deep  sense 
of  his  need  of  a  reminder  to  keep  him  humble,  that  he 
chose  for  his  text,  the  words  Keep  thy  heart  with  all 
diligence,  as  especially  required  by  him  at  this  time,  not 
involving  that  part  of  his  nature  which  was  perishable, 
bufc  the  spiritual  heart  and  affections  which  belonged 
exclusively  to  a  higher  state  of  being. 

Life  is  full  of  contradictions,  and  Vernon,  who  a  few 
short  hours. before  had  scoffingly  spoken  of  religion  as  a 
thing  to  be  put  on  and  off  at  pleasure,  now  acknowledged 
to  himself  that  it  was  the  only  one  thing  needful  in  life,  and 
as  the  words  of  the  young  minister  seemed  to  him  directly 
addressed  to  him,  laying  bare  his  secret  sins  to  his  view, 


144  Vernon  Grove. 

wounding  sometimes  but  oftener  healing  with  their 
gentleness  and  pity,  he  felt  a  glad  joy  within  him  that 
he  had  come  with  Sybil — a  new  light  dawned  upon  him,  a 
new  hope  that  even  he  might  win  the  pardon  which  was 
so  freely  offered ;  and  as  they  departed  with  the  lingering 
tone  of  the  solemn  benediction  in  their  ears,  he  whispered 
to  his  companion  as  he  pressd  her  arm,  "Thank  you, 
Sybil,  for  this  day's  experience." 

"  Thank  God,  rather,"  she  said  softly. 

"And  will  you  guide  me  here  again,  even  one  so 
unworthy  as  I  ?" 

"  The  wish  proves  you  not  unworthy,"  she  said. 

"  And  can  I  come  with  you  always  ?" 

"  Always^  whispered  Sybil  joyfully. 

Then  they  issued  from  the  porch  out  beneath  the 
brilliant  concave  of  the  radiant  heavens,  and  the  sun  lit 
up  Isabel's  jewels  with  more  dazzling  light,  and  the  gold- 
tipped  plume  of  Florence  waved  glancing  in  its  rays,  but 
to  the  angel  at  the  portal  there  was  a  brighter  glory  all 
unseen  by  mortal  eye  around  the  blind  man  and  his  gentle 
guide. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

"  The  glittering  dome,  the  arch,  the  towering  column, 

Are  sights  that  greet  us  now  on  every  hand, 
And  all  so  wild,  so  strange,  so  sweetly  solemn — 

So  like  one's  fancies  formed  of  fairy  land ! 
And  these  then  are  your  works,  mysterious  powers  I 

Tour  spells  are  o'er,  around  us,  and  beneath, 
These  opening  aisles,  these  crystal  fruits  and  flowers, 

And  glittering  grots,  and  high-arched  beauteous  bowers 
As  still  as  death!" 

POEMS  BY  AMELIA. 

IT  cannot  be  wondered  at  that  the  fair  ladies  from  the 
city  soon  grew  weary  of  their  monotonous  country  life. 
To  be  sure  Isabel  confessed  that  the  roses  had  deepened 
on  her  cheeks,  and  that  Florence's  complexion,  owing  to 
early  hours,  had  a  peculiar  richness  about  it  which  it 
never  displayed  in  the  crowded  saloons  of  fashion ;  but  a 
month  seemed  to  stretch  out  interminably  before  them, 
and  Vernon  was  at  a  loss  to  find  entertainment  for  his 
guests. 

In  him  they  were  evidently  disappointed ;  not  that  he 
lacked  any  of  the  attentions  due  from  a  host,  but  a 
certain  reserve  towards  Florence,  who  tried  in  vain  to 
dissipate  it,  threw  a  deep  shadow  over  the  whole  party. 
No  word  had  been  spoken  about  their  former  position, 
except  that  chance  illusion  of  Isabel's  to  other  happy 
times.  No  one  would  ever  have  imagined  that  a  tie  as 
7 


146  Vernon  Grove. 

strong  as  an  engagement  had  existed  between  Vernon 
and  Florence,  and  there  appeared  to  be  a  tacit  under- 
standing that  they  were  to  act  as  if  their  footing  had 
only  been  a  friendly  one  ;  but  behind  this  policy  on  the 
part  of  the  two  friends,  there  was  a  bold  design  which 
they  hoped  in  time  to  put  into  execution,  while  Vernon, 
on  his  side,  merely  cared  to  be  on  terms  of  politeness 
with  the  woman  who  had  once  been  so  near  and  dear  to 
him,  and  not  to  reveal  to  her  one  secret  emotion  of 
his  heart.  His  aim  was  to  be  indifferent ;  he  wished 
not  even  to  let  her  see  the  whole  extent  of  his  scorn, 
and  dreaded  still  more  to  lift  to  her  curious  gaze  the 
curtain  which  shut  out  from  her  knowledge  his  deep 
love  for  Sybil,  but  in  this  latter  calculation  he  over-calcu- 
lated his  self-possession,  for  an  event  occurred  which 
matured  the  plans  of  Florence,  and  showed  her  how 
Sybil  was  not  only  his  household  angel,  but  that  she 
guarded  every  avenue  of  the  heart  which  she  had  once 
called  her  own. 

Reader,  have  you  ever  visited  one  of  those  curiosities 
of  the  world  of  wonders,  a  natural  cave  ?  If  you  have, 
your  reminiscences  will  be  revived  by  the  experiences  of 
the  inmates  of  Veraon  Grove ;  if  you  have  not,  you 
must  enter  with  them  for  the  first  time  on  a  dark  and 
mysterious  scene. 

Several  miles  from  Vernon's  residence  there  was  one 
of  those  freaks  of  nature  long  famed  for  its  extent  and 
peculiarities,  to  which  many  a  long  and  weary  pilgri- 
mage had  been  made  by  curious  travellers  from  all  climes 
and  countries.  Vernon,  remembering  what  he  had 
heard  of  its  famed  statuary,  its  Solomon's  Temple,  its 
Pantheon,  bethought  him  that  a  visit  there  might  please 


Vernon  Grove.  147 

Sybil,  and  serve  to  vary  somewhat  the  visit  of  his  sister 
and  her  friend,  who,  though  too  well  bred  openly  to 
confess  their  ennui,  showed  it  consciously  by  many  a 
word  and  act.  Vernon  congratulated  himself  upon  the 
happy  thought,  and  a  party  was  formed,  consisting  of 
the  guests  from  the  city,  Vernon  and  Sybil,  the  young 
minister  and  his  wife,  together  with  John,  who,  besides 
being  indispensable  to  Vernon,  was  to  act  as  ya/e^-general 
to  the  whole  company. 

After  a  long  but  not  tedious  drive  to  their  place  of 
destination,  for  their  spirits  were  high  in  contemplation 
of  the  experiences  which  awaited  them,  they  engaged 
the  services  of  a  guide,  and  at  once  proceeded  to 
explore  the  cave. 

Each  one  was  provided  with  a  lantern,  and  the  first 
step  seemed  that  which  was  most  to  be  dreaded,  as  the 
aperture  was  too  small  to  admit  them  standing  upright, 
and  the  darkness,  in  contrast  with  the  light  of  day  which 
they  were  leaving  behind  them,  quite  appalling.  Isabel 
and  Florence  at  first  shrank  from  the  undertaking  as 
something  impossible  to  be  achieved,  but  their  curiosity 
prevailed  over  their  fears, — and,  moreover,  i-eflecting 
that  they  would  be  looked  upon  as  heroines  on  their 
return  to  the  city  when  they  described  the  wonders  of 
their  visit  to  the  cave,  they  entered,  trembling  at  first, 
with  the  rest,  but  soon  lost  all  sense  of  terror  hi  enjoy- 
ment, for  no  account  which  they  had  ever  received  of 
the  wonders  there  was  equal  to  the  strange,  weird, 
mysterious  scene  before  them. 

In  the  first  chamber  they  entered,  their  guide  assem- 
bling the  party  all  around  him,  warned  them  of  the 
perils  which  surrounded  them, — the  more  dangerous 


148  Vernon  Grove. 

often  for  being  unseen.  Sometimes,  he  told  them,  they 
would  walk  on  the  brink  of  a  towering  precipice  on  the 
margin  of  a  river,  flowing  so  noiselessly  as  to  be  unheard. 
Then  he  informed  them  that  but  few  comparatively  of 
the  chambers  in  that  wilderness  of  apartments  had  been 
explored,  and  that  hundreds  of  passages  were  all  around 
into  which  not  even  he  had  ever  ventured ;  and  then,  in 
order  to  enforce  upon  them  the  necessity  of  their  keeping 
together,  and  above  all,  keeping  him  in  view,  he  related 
to  them  the  sad  story  of  a  guide,  who,  like  himself,  had 
been  in  the  habit  of  taking  parties  through  the  cave,  but 
one  day  being  alone,  and  having  before  expressed  a 
determination  to  explore  some  untrodden  ground,  had 
never  been  seen  again,  being  in  all  probability  lost  in 
some  of  those  myriad  chambers,  or  drowned  in  a  silent 
and  undiscovered  stream.  Then  passing  on  to  a  still 
more  fearful  story,  he  informed  the  breathless  listeners 
of  the  sad  fate  of  a  party  of  students,  who,  rejecting  his 
aid,  and  being  determined  to  penetrate  into  the  myste- 
ries of  the  cavern  themselves,  had  disappeared  never  to 
return.  At  the  end  of  the  period  when  he  thought  that 
they  would  require  food  and  rest,  and  feeling  somewhat 
alarmed  regarding  their  protracted  absence,  he  had  gone 
in  search  of  them, — and  after  much  laborious  investiga- 
tion, had  discovered  only  their  dead  bodies  in  a  part  of 
the  cave  which  had  never  been  explored  before. 

"These  things  I  tell  you,"  he  continued,  "not  to 
frighten  or  discourage  you,"  as  he  looked  around  upon 
our  party,  and  saw  by  the  light  of  the  lanterns  that 
their  faces  were  blanched  with  fear,  "  but  merely  to 
warn  you,  repeating  that  there  is  no  peril  whatever  if 
you  keep  me  in  sight  and  attend  closely  to  my  direc- 


Vernon  Grove.  i4g 

tions;  and  I  promise  you,  on  these  conditions,  only 
pleasure,  and  something  new  under  the  sun  to  talk  about 
when  you  return  to  your  homes." 

Thus  re-assured,  the  party  entered  cheerfully  upon 
their  strange  pilgrimage. 

"  Do  I  lose  a  great  deal,  Sybil  ?"  were  Yernon's  first 
words  when  they  emerged  from  the  contracted  passage 
through  which  they  had  passed,  and  stood  upright  in  a 
fine  chamber  filled  with  figures  that  seemed  by  the 
lamp  light  to  resemble  groups  of  statuary. 

"  That  you  do  not  see,  is  God's  will,"  she  said  softly, 
while  a  feeling  of  awe  crept  over  her  at  the  magnitude 
and  beauty  of  the  scene  before  her.  "  You  do  lose  a 
great  deal,  and  it  is  beyond  description  wonderful ;  all 
around  us  stand  upright  stalagmites  in  forms  as  varied 
as  the  carvings  and  devices  of  art,  and  so  correct  is  the 
deception,  that  one  could  almost  fancy  different  expres- 
sions upon  the  carved  faces  of  the  figures.  For  instance, 
not  far  from  us  is  a  Hebe,  pouring  out  wine  from  a  glit- 
tering goblet,  and  yonder  is  a  Neptune,  with  hoary 
beard  hanging  down  to  his  waist ;  and  now  the  guide 
beckons  us  onward,  and  we  are  entering  another 
chamber,  at  the  end  of  which  is  a  throne,  just  as  one 
might  conceive  a  real  throne  looks,  all  spangling  with 
jewels  and  crowned  with  a  grand  imposing  seat,  fit  for 
a  king." 

Vernon  listened  to  his  companion  with  a  mixture  of 
pain  and  delight — it  was  so  tantalizing  not  to  behold 
what  she  did,  and  sympathise  Avith  her ;  so  sweet  to  feel 
that  lie  was  the  special  object  of  her  care,  and  leaning 
upon  her  arm  to  listen  to  her  unstudied  words,  which 
came  with  glad  accents  from  her  lips,  and  to  think  that 


150  Vernon  Grove. 

even  though  powerless  himself,  Sybil  moved  nearer  to 
his  side,  as  though  for  protection,  when  the  scenes  through 
which  they  passed  assumed  a  gloomy  or  forbidding  cha- 
racter. 

"  Xow,"  she  continued,  in  a  lower  tone,  made  audible 
to  Vernon  alone,  so  that  her  voice  might  not  interrupt 
the  descriptions  or  explanations  of  the  guide,  "  we  are 
entering  upon  a  scene  of  great  beauty.  This  chamber 
seems  to  be  ceiled  with  shells,  all  starry  and  brilliant 
with  glistening  stalactites ;  the  very  heavens  seem  to  be 
overhead,  and  one  feels  as  though  he  were  in  the  open 
air  when  looking  upward.  Did  I  not  know  to  the  con- 
trary, I  should  think  that  I  saw  my  favorite  constella- 
tions shining  there,  and  I  am  sure  that  I  can  trace  those 
three  gorgeous  stars  in  Orion's  belt ;  after  all  it  must  be 
the  natural  heavens  seen  through  a  gap  in  the  walls  of 
this  mystic  cave." 

"  No,"  replied  Vernon,  "  in  that  you  are  mistaken, 
for  I  have  often  heard  of  this  celebrated  chamber  and 
the  perfect  deception  of  its  star-paved  ceiling." 

A  call  from  the  guide  now  made  them  quicken  their 
lingering  footsteps. 

"  Tread  securely  here,"  continued  Sybil,  as  she  guided 
her  companion  carefully,  "we  are  entering  a  passage 
from  which  we  shall  have  to  ascend  several  steps ;  and 
now  that  we  have  left  them,  I  think  that  we  seem  to  be 
emerging  upon  a  remarkable  scene.  Oh  !  that  you  could 
see  for  yourself  its  marked  peculiarities.  Yonder  in  the 
distance  is  a  castle  in  ruins,  huge  pillars  lie  clustered 
together,  and  broken  arches  appear,  which  one  could 
almost  fancy  to  be  crumbling  to  dust,  so  perfect  is  the 
illusion.  We  might,  without  a  great  stretch  of  the  imagi- 


Vernon  Grove.  151 

nation,  fancy  ourselves  walking  amid  some  celebrated 
ruin  of  the  old  world.  I  would  like  to  know  if  Mr. 
Liuwood,  with  his  varied  experiences,  has  ever  visited 
a  cave  like  this.  Scenes  far  more  grand  I  know  that  he 
has  beheld,  but  scarcely  could  this  be  equalled  in  the 
peculiarity  of  its  style." 

"  I  think  not,"  replied  Yernon ;  "  I  think  that  Lin- 
wood  has  never  been  here  or  he  would  have  mentioned 
it  to  me;  the  catacombs  of  Rome  awe  one  with  the 
same  mysterious  sensations,  but  then  the  associations 
and  whole  aspect  there  are  so  different  that  I  doubt 
whether  they  should  in  any  particular  be  compared. 
When  Linwood  returns  we  must  pay  another  visit  here 
on  his  especial  account.  Some  people  are  so  conscien- 
tious about  having  seen  the  wonders  of  this  new  world, 
as  to  refuse  to  travel  abroad  until  they  have  been  visited, 
and  indeed  there  is  often  an  awkwardness  about  confes- 
sing ignorance  concerning  scenes  which  are  comparatively 
so  near  to  us, — for  almost  the  first  question  one  hears 
who  goes  sight-seeing  abroad  is,  '  Well,  I  suppose  that 
you  behold  nothing  here  that  surpasses  your  far-famed 
Niagara,' — taking  it  for  granted  that  all  Americans  have 
seen  it,  and  that  it  lies  at  our  very  doors." 

Their  conversation  was  suddenly  interrupted  by  an 
exclamation  from  Isabel,  which  betokened  a  sudden  sense 
of  delight,  as  they  entered  a  large  apartment  which  the 
guide  called  the  Ball  Room.  Enormous  stalactites  hung 
pendant  from  the  ceiling  in  the  shape  of  chandeliers, 
while  a  gallery  at  the  head  of  the  room,  supported  by 
symmetrical  pillars,  seemed  a  fitting  station  for  an 
orchestra.  The  simple  light  of  the  lanterns  of  the  visi- 
tors was  not  enough  to  illuminate  this  large  hall,  the 


152  Vernon  Grove. 

guide  therefore  lit  a  multitude  of  candles,  and  as  he 
placed  them  in  different  points,  the  effect  was  curiously 
perfect.  Festoons  of  garlands  seemed  to  droop  from  the 
pillars,  and  candelabra  to  start  from  the  walls. 

"We  only  want  music  now,"  exclaimed  Isabel  to 
Florence,  "and  a  few  choice  spirits,  to  enjoy  a  dance; 
how  charming  it  would  be !" 

But  Florence  was  in  no  mood  to  enjoy ;  she  could  not 
feel  at  ease  while  Vernon  so  exclusively  appropriated 
Sybil  to  himself,  and  she  was  tantalized  too,  by  the  low 
tone  in  which  they  conversed,  apparently  upon  subjects 
of  interest,  and  only  waited  for  a  fitting  opportunity  to 
place  herself  in  Sybil's  stead  at  his  side. 

After  passing  through  the  Ball-Room,  the  party  pro- 
ceeded down  a  wide  flight  of  steps,  on  through  a  narrow 
passage,  and  from  thence  to  a  room  called  the  Steeple 
Room,  from  its  containing  a  perfectly  formed  steeple 
constructed  of  stalagmites  rising  to  a  considerable  height 
from  the  ground ;  and  then  on,  to  perhaps  the  most 
beautiful  scene  in  the  whole  cave,  a  stalagmite  mass  of 
white  incrustations,  which  had  the  appearance  of  a  grand 
fall  suddenly  arrested  in  its  downward  course.  The 
timid  bride,  on  beholding  it,  started  back  and  clung 
closer  to  her  husband's  arm  as  she  approached  it,  for  its 
overhanging  masses  were  so  like  a  sheet  of  water  that  it 
seemed  as  if  it  would  momently  inundate  the  whole 
chamber. 

In  the  next  apartment,  which  was  named  the  Ghost 
Room,  from  the  peculiar  appearance  the  light  cast  upon 
the  walls,  which  were  cragged  and  irregular,  the  guide, 
taking  away  all  the  lanterns  of  the  party,  told  them  to 
remain  quietly  in  their  places  until  he  returned ;  at  least 


Vernon  Grove.  153 

by  no  means  to  move  to  any  distance  on  account  of  the 
dangers  of  Avhich  he  had  warned  them  before,  and  leav- 
ing them  all  in  darkness,  he  withdrew  into  an  adjoining 
chamber. 

It  was  certainly  the  blackness  of  darkness  in  which 
they  now  found  themselves ;  not  a  ray  of  light  pene- 
trated the  vaulted  roof,  and  a  sense  of  loneliness  and  ter- 
ror pervaded  each  heart. 

The  guide  did  not  remain  away  many  minutes,  but 
during  that  time  an  incident  occurred  which  lent  a 
deeper  gloom  to  the  spirits  of  one  of  the  party  than  even 
that  which  reigned  about  her ;  and  could  Florence  have 
believed  in  earthly  suffering  as  a  retribution  for  the 
pains  she  had  inflicted  on  others,  she  must  have  thought 
herself  amply  repaid  then  and  there.  She  was  standing 
near  Vernon  on  one  side,  while  upon  the  other  was  Sybil, 
ever  faithful  to  her  trust,  whose  arm  was  twined  within 
his  own. 

A  few  words  were  uttered  by  Isabel,  a  few  jesting 
careless  words,  followed  by  her  own  silvery  laugh,  but 
no  one  joined  it,  the  darkness  seemed  too  solemn  a  thing 
to  jest  about — an  incubus,  a  heavy  hand,  laid  upon  each, 
commanding  a  serious  mood,  and  as  the  last  echo  of  that 
ill-timed  mirth  died  away,  Florence  bent  forward  to 
catch  the  whispered  tones  of  Sybil,  who  was  speaking  to 
her  companion. 

"  It  was  a  thing  to  feel,"  she  said,  "  this  terrible  gloom, 
darker  than  night,  dark  as  fabled  Erebus ;  to  see  it,  to 
see  this  blackness  is  nothing,  but  to  feel  it,  oh,  it  is  ter- 
rible !" 

"  There  is  no  difference  to  me,  dear  Sybil,"  was  the 
low  answer  heard  by  Florence,  as  well  as  by  her  to  whom 


1^4  Vernon  Grove. 

it  was  addressed,  "it  is  all  alike  night,  chaotic  night; 
but  I  am  not  sorry  to  have  brought  you  here,  for  you 
can  know  in  this  intense  gloom  which  you  have  described, 
better  how  to  feel  for  me." 

"It  did  not  require  this  experience,"  she  returned, 
"  to  call  forth  my  entire  sympathy ;  you  had  that  from 
the  first  moment  that  I  saw  you,  when,  as  a  child,  I  gave 
you  my  garland  of  flowers,  but  I  confess  that  now  I 
realize  what  I  never  did  before,  the  almost  agony  of 
your  eternal  night,  no  beauty,  no  sky  and  stars,  no  glad, 
cheering,  cheerful  light." 

"  Yes,  there  is  one  ray,"  he  answered  tenderly,  "  bright 
as  the  torch  of  an  angel,  a  gift  from  God's  own  treasury 
of  light,  a  ray  as  fresh  and  pure  as  that  which  first  broke 
the  primeval  gloom." 

"  I  thought  that  it  was  all  darkness,"  said  Sybil,  with 
a  glad  tremor  in  her  tone ;  "  then  there  may  be  hope 
that  one  day  in  the  future,  science  and  skill  combined 
may  give  you  sight  again." 

"You  mistake  my  meaning,  sweet  enthusiast,"  he 
answered,  "that  can  never,  never  be.  It  was,  as  you 
say,  all  darkness,"  he  continued,  turning  his  face  towards 
her  until  she  felt  his  breath  stirring  the  soft  circlets  of 
her  hair,  "  until  one  day  when  you  came,  Sybil,  and  that 
blessed  ray  of  light  is  simply  what  you  brought  with 
you.  I  would  rather  be  blind  with  it,  than  in  the  full 
possession  of  my  sight  without  it,  God  himself  knows 
that  I  would,  Sybil." 

Where  were  Richard  Yernon's  resolves  ?  What  was 
there  in  his  words  and  his  breath  upon  Sybil's  brow, 
what  charm  unfelt  before,  that  brought  that  deep  bright 
blush,  though  all  unseen  to  her  face?  Why  did  her 


Vernon  Grove.  1 55 

hand  tremble  as  it  lay  confidingly  upon  his  arm ;  why 
the  quicker  beating  of  that  neighboring  heart  of  hers  ? 
Did  he  not  promise  to  gtiard  his  very  tones,  and  yet  his 
lips  were  framing  themselves  to  utter  tender  words, 
which  following  upon  that  oath  made  so  solemnly  to 
himself  to  regard  her  outwardly  ever  as  a  sister,  would 
have  made  him  guilty  of  perjury.  He  was  saved, 
however,  from  that  sin  by  an  interruption  unforeseen, 
unexpected. 

Another  had  heard  those  strong  passionate  words, 
another  who  stood  near,  and  it  brought  to  her  memory 
his  love-tones  of  the  past ;  her  soul  burned  with  jealousy 
and  the  madness  of  a  disappointed  hope.  If  ever,  now 
was  the  time,  she  thought,  to  win  him  back  to  her  sway, 
and  to  free  him  from  those  invisible  charms  which  Sybil 
all  unconsciously  was  throwing  around  him,  and  while 
he  waited  for  a  word,  a  single  word,  or  movement,  or 
sigh  from  Sybil  in  answer,  he  felt  his  hand,  which  was 
near  Florence,  caught  and  held  firmly  by  another  cold, 
untrembling  hand,  which  he  knew  too  well,  and  whispered 
words  of  tenderness  sounded  close  to  his  ear. 

"  Richard,  Richard,"  said  the  voice  brokenly,  "forgive 
and  forget  the  past.  I  can  explain  it  all.  She  does  not 
understand  you ;  she,  that  child,  could  never  fathom  the 
depths  of  your  soul  as  I  have  done,  as  I  could  do  again. 
I  was  weak,  was  wicked  to  wander  from  you  as  I  did ; 
forgive  me  and  I  will  prove  that  I  was  false  to  you  only 
in  appearance,  not  in  truth !  They  never  loved  who  say 
that  they  loved  once,  and  oh,  Richard,  I  have  never 
ceased  loving  you.  Leave  her,  give  her  to  some  one 
more  congenial  in  years,  in  feelings,  in  experience ;  she 
is  no  mate  for  a  world-tried,  a  world- worn  man ;  return 


156  Vernon  Grove. 

to  one  who  has  always  loved  you,  and  calls  heaven  to 
witness  her  sincerity." 

Sybil  did  not  hear  her,  and  if  she  had,  not  well  could 
she  have  connected  those  half-murmured,  half-whispered 
ejaculations,  wrung  from  a  maddened  heart,  which  had 
staked  its  happiness  or  misery  upon  that  moment,  nor 
did  she  see  that  he  had  dashed  that  intruding  hand  away 
from  him  with  disgust,  although  she  knew  that  he  shud- 
dered as  though  suffering  some  bodily  pain,  and  his 
answering  words,  emphatically  spoken^he  bent  towards 
Florence,  reached  her  ear  alone  for  whom  they  were 
intended  and  dropped  like  melted  lead  upon  her  quiver- 
ing heart. 

"  Florence  Percy,  the  time  has  passed  for  such  words 
as  you  have  just  uttered ;  they  are  meaningless  to  my 
ears.  Listen  and  judge  for  yourself — what  we  might 
have  been  is  a  dream,  what  we  are  a  reality ;  believe  me 
when  I  say  to  you  that  I  feel  each  day  more  and  more 
this  truth — the  affection,  which  I  thought  I  had  for  you 
once,  was  merely  a  passing  fancy,  unworthy  even  the 
name  of  love.  Stand  aside,  there  is  no  ground  upon 
which  you  and  I  can  meet ;  stand  aside." 

lie  had  almost  cursed  her,  and  yet  in  his  heart  of 
hearts  he  blessed  her  for  one  thing ;  she  had  reminded 
him  of  his  duty.  Thank  God,  he  thought,  those  burn- 
ing words  to  Sybil  had  remained  unspoken ;  thank  God, 
she  was  standing  calmly  by  him  still  all  unconscious  of 
his  struggle,  all  unconscious  of  the  bitter  words,  "  she  is 
no  mate  for  a  world-worn,  world-tried  man,"  which  had 
brought  him  back  to  reason  and  the  memory  of  his 
vow. 

The  guide  returned  with  the  light  and  found  a  lady 


Vernon  Grove.  157 

faint,  but  it  was  a  common  occurrence,  he  said,  in  that 
fearful  darkness,  where  the  coming  lanterns  made  such 
unearthly  light  on  the  walls  of  the  Ghost  Chamber,  and 
taking  a  cup  of  water  from  a  neighboring  spring,  he 
presented  it  to  Florence,  whose  dry  quivering  lips  it 
moistened  and  refreshed. 

From  this  point,  the  Ghost  Room,  our  party  retraced 
their  steps,  and  examined  with  new  delight  the  varied 
beauties  of  the  cave,  finding  many  which  they  had 
before  passed  unnoticed.  In  one  of  the  chambers,  Sybil 
became  quite  interested  in  noting  the  formation  of  some 
pieces  of  rock  crystal  which  she  saw  of  singular  beauty, 
and  desiring  a  specimen,  she  left  Vernon's  arm  for  a 
moment,  giving  him  in  charge  of  John,  in  order  to 
examine  it  more  attentively,  and  to  try  to  break  off  a 
tempting  cluster  which  met  her  view.  Bending  down 
apart  from  the  others,  whose  attention  was  attracted  by 
something  else,  and  absorbed  in  looking  at  the  glittering 
crystal  as  it  seemed  momently  to  take  new  forms  of 
beauty,  she  did  not  hear  the  call  from  the  guide,  nor 
see  that  her  companions  had  left  the  chamber  in  which 
she  was,  and  had  tui-ned  an  abrupt  angle,  and  proceeding 
quickly  through  an  apartment  which  had  nothing  curious 
about  it  to  attract  their  attention,  had  passed  on  still 
farther  to  one  of  more  spacious  proportions  and  extra- 
ordinary beauty. 

Here  the  guide,  as  was  his  custom,  began  to  call  the 
attention  of  the  visitors  to  the  curiosities  around,  when 
he  suddenly  paused,  and  with  a  troubled  expression  on 
his  face,  counted  the  party  as  he  had  often  done  during 
the  day,  to  see  that  none  were  missing ;  then  in  a  tone 
which  thrilled  like  a  death-knell  upon  his  listeners,  he 


158  Vernon  Grove. 

said  words  which  they  never  forgot.  They  were 
these. 

One  of  our  party  is  not  here  ! 

Then  came  back  to  them  his  remembered  words  of 
warning,  his  terrible  stories  of  death  by  starvation  or 
dro  wning,  and  the  question,  Who  is  it  f  rang  like  a 
clarion  from  every  lip,  and  when  each  inquired  for  those 
who  were  dearest  and  missed  them  not,  and  Vernon  for 
her  who  was  his  nearest  and  dearest,  and  heard  no 
answering  voice,  his  anguish  escaped  from  him  in  one 
mad  fearful  cry,  that  rang  through  the  vaulted  rooms 
like  the  voice  of  one  calling  the  beloved  dead  back  again 
to  life.  It  was  a  cry  of  agony  seldom  heard  by  mortal  ear, 
that  one  piercing,  echoing,  and  re-echoing  word,  "Sybil." 

But  no  answer  came. 

Then  all  felt  and  knew  that  it  was  she ;  the  guide, 
that  it  was  the  fair-haired  girl,  whose  face  and  floating 
form  seemed  to  him  like  an  angel's  ;  the  bride  and  her 
young  husband,  that  it  was  she  whose  voice  rose  on  each 
Sabbath  into  praise  and  prayer,  and  from  Avhoae  gentle 
eyes  beamed  the  holy  joy  of  some  saint-like  Madonna  ; 
Isabel,  that  it  was  the  child-woman  who  had  presided  so 
gracefully  in  her  brother's  house,  and  who  had  tried  in 
every  way  to  make  their  visit  to  the  Grove  a  happy  one, 
and  who  had  read  and  talked  to  them,  or  sang  tune  after 
tune  to  their  craving  ears,  wearied  never,  so  that  they 
Avere  entertained ;  and  Florence,  that  it  was  that  Sybil 
Gray,  who  had  dared  to  step  in  between  her  and  her 
ambition,  and  had  plucked  the  only  flower  in  her  path  ; 
and  Yernon,  that  it  was  she  who  was  his  very  life. 

"  Sybil,  Sybil !"  that  mad  despairing  cry,  louder  and 
louder  now  upon  every  lip,  gave  to  Vernon  a  still  more 


Vernon  Grove.  159 

realizing  sense  of  her  danger,  and  he  was  about  to  go 
himself  in  pursuit  of  the  lost  one,  when  the  guide,  in  a 
voice  of  authority,  besought  him  and  all,  on  the  peril  of 
their  lives,  to  remain  where  they  were.  It  would  avail 
nothing,  he  said,  for  the  whole  party  to  go  in  search  of 
her,  even  in  company  with  him,  for  they  necessarily 
would  retard  his  progress,  and  departing  alone  in  differ- 
ent directions  would  be  madness,  for  to  all  who  attempted 
it  would  come  the  same  fate  as  that  of  the  unfortunate 
students  whom  he  had  before  mentioned.  For  his  part, 
he  concluded,  in  his  little  address  as  they  stood  anxiously 
around  him,  he  supposed  that  she  was  waiting  patiently 
for  them  in  the  Lime  Crystal  Chamber,  where  they  had 
last  seen  her,  and  he  thought  it  the  best  and  most  practi- 
cal plan  for  all  to  accompany  him  there,  where  no  doubt 
they  would  find  her  smiling  at  their  alarm ;  but  if  that 
room  were  deserted  and  no  traces  could  be  discovered 
of  her,  he  would  take  the  servant  John,  and  at  once 
proceed  to  a  systematic  search,  while  the  party  remained 
awaiting  his  return. 

This  advice  was  so  plausible,  and  any  other  course  of 
conduct  seemed  so  wild  and  impracticable,  that  all 
acquiesced  in  his  views,  and  Vernon,  pale  and  anxious 
beyond  all  the  others,  could  not  but  express  his  satisfac- 
tion in  what  he  had  proposed. 

At  every  two  or  three  steps,  the  guide,  as  he  led  the 
party  back,  sounded  the  peculiar  hallo  !  which  is  heard 
furthest  in  that  dreary  cavern,  and  the  name  of  the 
missing  one  was  shouted  from  time  to  time  by  the  dif- 
ferent members  of  the  party ;  but  alas,  the  only  answer 
was  a  dreary  silence,  or  a  still  more  dreary  echo,  until 
at  last  they  reached  the  Lime  Crystal  Chamber. 


160  Vernon  Grove. 

But  Sybil  was  not  there  ! 

Then  the  guide,  more  anxious  than  he  dared  acknow- 
ledge, hurriedly  bade  them  be  of  good  cheer,  and  taking 
John  with  him,  disappeared  through  one  of  the  dark 
entrances,  though  perplexed  to  know  which  one  of  the 
many  that  led  out  of  the  apartment  she  could  have  taken. 

Even  Isabel's  gay  mood  was  softened,  and  with  a 
transition  common  to  such  natures  as  hers,  felt  from  one 
extreme  to  another,  and  burst  into  a  passion  of  tears. 
The  young  minister  and  his  wife,  clinging  more  closely 
together,  as  though  fearful  that  some  fate  might  come  to 
tear  them  apart  from  each  other,  retired  to  a  distant  part 
of  the  room,  and  their  religious  natures  found  vent  in  an 
earnest  prayer  for  Sybil's  welfare. 

Florence  alone  seemed  calm  and  self-possessed ;  yes, 
she  who  awhile  ago  stood  with  colorless  face  and  faint 
limbs  in  the  dark  chamber,  now  appeared  mistress  of  a 
wonderful  self-command ;  her  cold  searching  eye  looking 
around  upon  the  excited  group  with  a  heartless  curiosity. 
But  upon  Vernon  she  gazed  most  frequently,  as  he  sat 
with  his  head  bowed  upon  his  knees  in  mute  despair, 
lifting  his  pale  face  at  intervals  if  the  slightest  noise 
reached  his  ears,  or  clenching  his  hands  as  if  his  blindness 
were  a  curse  and  the  guide  a  cruel  jailor  to  keep  him 
passive  there,  while  Florence,  from  these  mingled  emo- 
tions, read  with  a  smile  of  triumphant  scorn  upon  her 
beautiful  face,  only  the  tale  of  a  love  that  would  give  its 
life  for  the  beloved  one, — and  she  read  aright. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

"  Hark !  hear  ye  not  those  echoes  ringing  after, 

Our  gliding  step — my  spirit  faints  with  fear, — 
Those  mocking  tones,  like  subterranean  laughter — 
Or  does  the  brain  grow  wild  with  wondering  here  I 
There  may  be  spectres  wild  and  forms  appalling 

Our  wandering  eyes,  where'er  we  rove,  to  greet — 
Methinks  I  hear  their  low  sad  voices  calling 
Upon  us  now,  and  far  away  the  falling 
Of  phantom  feet." 

POEMS  BY  AMELIA. 

"  A  new  life,  like  a  young  sunrise,  breaks 
On  the  strange  unrest  of  the  night."  BROWNING. 

WHEN  Sybil  turned  from  her  examination  of  the 
crystals  she  found  that  the  party  had  gone,  but  feeling 
no  difficulty  about  following  them,  turned  into  the 
nearest  chamber  which  she  observed,  supposing  it  to  be 
the  only  one  besides  that  by  which  she  had  entered,  and 
pursued  its  winding  course  for  some  distance.  At  length, 
being  a  little  anxious  about  not  having  overtaken  them, 
she  called  several  times  but  with  no  response,  until  a 
thought  of  terror  came  to  her,  blanching  her  face  and 
causing  her  limbs  to  tremble, — the  thought  of  being  lost, 
and  she  quickened  her  pace,  not  knowing  that  each  step 
led  her  farther  from  her  friends. 

At  last  the  truth  burst  upon  her  that  she  was  indeed 
alone  and  forsaken  in  that  terrible  place,  so  full  of  unseen 


162  Vernon  Grove. 

perils.  The  moment  was  a  fearful  one  in  which  she 
realized  her  situation ;  she  shouted  in  agony  for  help,  she 
called  upon  Vernon  until  her  voice  grew  hoarse  and  only 
whispered  vainly  his  name;  her  eyes  peered  into  the 
darkness  until  they  were  blood-shot  with  the  straining ; 
a  cold  chill  crept  over  her ;  her  voice  grew  fainter  in  its 
hoarse  whispers  and  perfectly  unmanageable ;  her  limbs 
were  faint.  Pausing  awhile  to  reflect  upon  her  situation,  a 
vision  of  the  poor  lost  guide,  of  whom  she  had  heard,  came 
to  her  memory,  and  she  determined  that  she  would 
remain  stationary,  hoping  that  some  one  would  compas- 
sionately follow  her  to  the  apartment  where  she  was; 
it  was  better  to  do  that,  she  thought,  than  to  rush  on 
into  some  unseen  peril.  Still  the  remembrance  of  the 
lost  guide  would  not  depart  from  her ;  perhaps  even  now 
she  might  be  treading  upon  his  bones,  and  with  that 
sickening  thought  she  raised  her  lantern  to  see  if  the 
place  were  at  all  familiar  to  her,  and  to  assure  herself 
that  at  least  no  unsightly  skeleton  kept  her  company; 
but  moving  one  step  farther  on,  her  foot  struck  upon 
some  unseen  obstacle,  throwing  her  down  upon  the 
ground,  while  her  lantern  was  rudely  forced  from  her 
hand  by  the  shock ;  the  light  flickered  more  brightly  for 
a  moment  and  then  was  entirely  extinguished,  leaving 
her  upon  the  cold  slimy  ground  in  utter  darkness. 
Groping  about  she  raised  herself  from  her  prostrate 
attitude,  and  leaning  against  a  broken  stalagmite  forma- 
tion, gave  herself  up  to  retrospection  and  prayer. 

As  in  the  case  of  a  person  who  is  about  to  be  drowned, 
a  panorama  of  his  whole  life  is  presented  in  an  instant  of 
time,  so  did  Sybil  Gray  conjure  up  all  the  past  scenes  of 
her  life,  and  all  whom  in  her  short  career  she  had  ever 


Vernon  Grove.  163 

known.  First  she  thought  of  her  grandmother,  who 
had  been  alike  father  and  mother  to  her,  lying  at  home 
lonely  and  ill,  with  no  tender  hands  of  grandchild  or 
relation  to  arrange  her  pillows  or  smooth  down  her  scant 
grey  locks ;  then  of  Isabel,  so  kind  and  yet  so  changeable, 
sometimes  treating  her  as  a  companion  and  then  as  a 
child  or  plaything ;  of  Vernon  and  his  helpless  blindness, 
of  his  devotion  to  her  through  the  long  years  of  the  past 
— what  could  he,  what  would  he  do  without  her  ?  Then 
Florence's  superb  eyes  flashed  upon  her  in  the  darkness, 
and  she  thought  of  her ;  would  she  guide  and  guard  him 
when  they  had  relinquished  all  hope  of  finding  her,  and 
would  he  call  her  his  ray  of  light  in  the  darkness,  and 
would  they  become  reconciled  and  love  each  other  as 
they  once  did  ?  Then  the  perfect  happiness  of  the  young 
bride  and  bridegroom  came  to  her  mind,  and  she  mur- 
mured to  herself  how  sweet  it  must  be  to  love  and  to  be 
loved,  and  to  have  one  in  the  wide  world  who  would  be 
glad  to  hear  every  thought  as  it  came  unstudied  from  the 
mind,  and  to  sit  with  clasped  hands,  as  they  did,  feeling 
sure  that  they  were  dear  to  each  other.  Then  at  length 
her  vivid  imagination  wandered  to  Europe,  that  world 
of  wonders,  where  Albert  Lin  wood  painted  those  beautiful 
angel-like  heads.  She  wondered  what  he  would  say  when 
he  heard  that  little  Sybil  Gray's  bones  were  mouldering 
in  the  silence  of  that  fearful  cave. 

The  humblest  person,  the  minutest  thing  in  her  event- 
ful life,  were  all  remembered,  until  at  last  the  memory 
turned  upon  herself,  and  her  soul  melted  in  pity  for  that 
poor,  beating,  fluttering  heart  of  hers,  and  tears  chased 
each  other  silently  down  her  cheeks,  while  her  hands 


164  Vernon  Grove. 

clasped  her  throat,  as  if  to  repress  the  choking  sensation 
which  seemed  to  deprive  her  of  breath. 

"  They  will  search  for  me  and  will  not  find  me,"  she 
sobbed ;  "  I  shall  grow  faint,  and  hungry,  and  tired  here, 
and  like  others,  shall  wander  about  and  never  be  heard 
of  more ;  some  treacherous  stream  will  engulf  me,  or  I 
shall  starve,  day  by  day,  until  I  die  a  horrible  death." 

Then  pity,  self  pity,  turned  to  madness,  and  she  clasped 
her  delicate  hands  together  wildly,  and  beat  her  head 
against  the  senseless  rock ;  then  extending  her  hands  as 
if  to  ward  off  some  demon,  which  in  her  madness  she 
had  conjured  up,  thinking  that  with  hungry  eyes  it 
approached  her,  she  uttered  a  despairing  shriek  and 
struck  them  against  a  hard  substance  near,  when  a  roll, 
like  the  heavy  tone  of  a  deep  bass  drum,  a  sort  of  knell, 
to  departing  hope,  sounded,  and  sent  new  terror  into  her 
soul.  She  did  not  know  then  that  there  was  a  room 
within  the  cave  called  the  Drum  Room,  which  was  so 
named  from  a  thin  stalactite  partition  extending  from  the 
ceiling  to  the  floor,  and  which  emits,  by  even  a  gentle 
tap,  a  tone  like  distant  thunder.  Had  she  known  this 
she  might  have  kept  her  consciousness,  and  even  through 
her  madness  have  had  returning  gleams  of  reason  ;  but 
the  poor  girl  only  read  in  its  sepulchral  unearthly  tone, 
a  confirmation  of  her  terrible  fate,  a  sort  of  "Amen"  to 
the  shriek  with  which  she  filled  the  cavern,  and  she  rose 
to  fly,  anywhere,  anywhere,  on,  on,  even  if  it  proved  to 
her  certain  death,  which  would  be  preferable  to  that 
cruel,  prolonged,  suffering  life.  But  she  was  not  equal 
to  the  effort ;  her  strength  suddenly  forsook  her,  and  she 
fell  with  a  pitiful  moan  upon  the  ground,  insensible,  with 


Vernon  Grove.  165 

scarcely  a  sign  of  life  about  her  save  in  the  faint  fluttering 
of  her  heart. 

At  peace  at  last,  because  unconscious !  Unconscious  of 
the  darkness,  the  horror,  the  damp  cold  rock  which  pil- 
lowed her  head ;  oblivious  to  memory,  to  cheating  hope,  to 
life  itself.  It  was  a  peace  like  that  one  sometimes  hopes 
to  find  in  the  silent  grave  when  weary  of  the  jar,  the  tears, 
the  trials,  the  sorrows  of  existence.  The  storm  had  done 
its  worst ;  sail,  and  mast,  and  pennon,  had  been  torn  away 
from  the  graceful  bark  in  the  struggle  with  the  elements, 
till  at  last  it  had  sunk  fathoms  deep,  out  of  reach  of  storm 
or  wind,  resting  peacefully  at  length  amid  the  coral  shores. 

Poor  driven  bark,  poor  crazed,  helpless,  unconscious 
Sybil !  And  it  was  thus  that  the  kind  guide  found  her, 
but  no  effort  of  his  could  rouse  her  from  her  death-like 
stupor.  He  was  a  powerful  man,  used  to  fatigue  and 
exertion  of  every  kind,  and  though  his  outward  bearing 
was  rough,  he  had  the  heart  of  a  woman,  and  he  gazed 
upon  the  poor  child  somewhat  as  a  mother  would  look 
upon  a  helpless  infant,  blessing  her  sweet  white  face, 
and  feeling  a  joy,  in  rescuing  her,  that  he  had  not  known 
in  his  monotonous  life  for  years.  Then  he  stooped,  and 
lifting  her  in  his  arms,  carried  her  tenderly  back  to  her 
friends,  talking  to  her  all  the  while  in  comforting  words 
as  though  she  heard  and  understood  him,  bidding  her  to 
be  patient,  for  she  would  soon  be  with  them  again,  asking 
her  if  her  drooping  form  lay  easily  upon  his  strong 
muscular  arm,  and  changing  her  position  several  times 
for  fear  that  she  might  be  wearied. 

It  was  well  that  Vernon's  eyes  were  closed  to  the 
touching  sight  as  they  entered  ;  it  would  have  been  too 
sad  a  spectacle  for  one  who  loved  her  so  tenderly. 


166  Vernon  Grove. 

Long  before  they  entered,  the  word  "  Found !"  uttered 
by  tlie  guide  in  a  voice  which  could  be  heard  at  some 
distance,  sent  a  thrill  to  his  heart  that  he  never  forgot, 
and  had  it  not  been  for  the  persuasions  of  the  rest  ot 
the  party,  he  would  have  rushed  forward  to  meet  her, 
but  they  reminded  him  of  the  guide's  express  injunc- 
tions and  the  danger  of  intricate  passages,  and  he  con- 
sented at  last  to  Avait,  though  each  succeeding  moment 
seemed  to  swell  to  an  hour's  duration. 

At  length  they  entered,  her  slight  form  borne  on  the 
stalwart  arm  of  the  guide,  while  with  his  free  hand  he 
held  his  lantern  aloft  so  that  the  light  struck  immedi- 
ately upon  her  pallid  face.  Her  position  was  so  helpless 
that  it  was  hard  to  distinguish  it  from  death,  for  her 
head  Avas  inclined  backward  and  her  long  fair  hair  had 
escaped  from  its  fastening  and  was  trailing  on  the 
ground,  while  her  arms  fell  in  that  drooping  position 
which  the  limbs  of  the  lifeless  always  have  before  they 
become  stiffened  with  cold.  It  was  to  the  bystanders 
indeed  death,  though  without  its  ungraceful  rigidity. 

"  Is  she  dead  ?"  asked  Isabel  inadvertently,  as  they 
entered,  and  the  group  gathered  round  the  guide 
anxious  to  know  every  particular  from  his  lips. 

"  Oh,  my  God,  not  dead !"  was  all  that  Vernon  could 
say,  "  she  cannot,  she  must  not  die ;"  while  he  pressed 
his  hands  tightly  over  his  blinded  eyes  as  if  to  invoke 
sight  therefrom,  that  he  might  assure  himself  of  her 
real  condition. 

"  Oh,  no,  not  dead ;  at  least  not  just  yet,"  said  the 
guide  compassionately,  and  yet  fearing  to  raise  Vernon's 
hopes  too  much,  "  but  she  is  in  a  swoon  so  deep  that  we 
cannot  hope  for  her  recovery  (if  she  ever  wakes)  for 


Vernon  Grove.  167 

some  hours.  In  the  meantime,  we  must  hurry  onward, 
and  as  you,  Mr.  Vernon,  require  no  lantern  and  have 
both  arms  free,  strong  arms  upon  which  to  cradle  the 
poor  child,  you  must  carry  her  as  carefully  as  you  can, 
while  John  will  guide  you, — but  remember  it  is  a  long 
way  and  a  weary  one,  and  if  you  find  that  your  burden 
becomes  too  heavy  for  you,  I  will  take  her  awhile  again 
until  you  get  rested." 

She  was  transferred  to  Vernon's  arms  in  silence,  as 
though  they  were  watching  a  corpse.  All  looked  upon 
that  beautiful  still  face  with  sympathetic  pity,  and  many 
of  the  eyes  there  were  filled  with  tears ;  some  over- 
flowed, but  Florence's  were  tearless,  and  a  fire  flashed 
from  them  as  she  saw  that  gentle  head  pillowed  on 
Vernon's  breast,  and  the  procession,  so  full  of  enjoy- 
ment in  the  morning,  passed  in  solemn  silence  along, 
while  all  unheeded  were  the  varied  forms  of  beauty  that 
lined  their  path. 

And  what  were  Vernon's  emotions  as  his  arms  enfolded 
that  beloved  form  ?  Grow  weary  of  her  f  Ask  assist- 
ance from  any  one  though  the  way  were  twice,  ay,  thrice 
as  long?  Ah,  no,  it  was  too  sweet  a  burden  that  he 
bore.  She  seemed  but  a  feather  in  his  arms  as  he  held 
her  there  heart  to  heart,  with  her  unbound  hair  waving 
at  times  upon  his  very  lips,  and  as  thus  he  walked  from 
the  darkness  into  the  light  of  day  without,  a  vision 
seemed  to  come  to  him  as  he  held  her  there,  false 
perchance,  but  still  blessed  because  it  included  her. 
The  cave  appeared  to  him  as  earth,  and  its  devious 
perplexed  ways,  and  the  sunlight  without,  the  opening 
heaven, — then  a  wild  blissful  thought  entered  his  heart, 


168  Vernon  Grove. 

cheating  him  with  its  brilliant  coloring,  that  even  thus 
one  day  might  he  hope  to  enter  heaven. 

Often  in  tenderest  accents  he  whispered  her  name, 
but  the  still  lips  gave  no  answer;  then  imagining  that 
her  swoon  was  truly  death,  he  placed  his  hand  upon  her 
heart  re-assured  by  its  feeble  fluttering  that  life  was  yet 
there.  Often,  too,  his  soul  was  torn  with  cruel  fancies, 
and  he  feared  that  from  that  corpse-like  repose  she 
might  suddenly  wake  to  madness,  and  his  footsteps 
quickened  to  reach  the  outer  world  and  to  know  the 
worst. 

At  last  they  gained  the  entrance  of  the  cave,  and  the 
fresh  breezes  of  heaven  brought  something  like  con- 
sciousness to  the  insensible  girl.  Opening  her  eyes  for 
a  moment  she  looked  vacantly  around  and  sighed,  then 
a  faint  smile  played  around  her  lips  and  she  nestled 
more  closely  to  Vernon's  breast. 

"Thank  God,"  said  Vernon,  fervently,  as  he  heard 
that  life-like  sigh. 

His  voice  seemed  to  arrest  her  attention,  though  she 
appeared  to  try  in  vain  to  unclose  her  eyes  again,  and 
her  lips  moved  as  though  she  were  dreaming,  while  a 
few  whispered  words  which  Vernon's  quick  ear  heard, 
made  his  heart  throb  wildly  while  she  spoke. 

"Oh,  it  was  a  terrible  dream,"  the  Avhite  lips  mur- 
mured, "  but  it  is  over  now ;  the  longed-for  peace  has 
come  at  last." 

"  Sybil,  dearest,  my  own  beloved,"  whispered  Vernon, 
forgetting  all  his  noble  plans  of  concealment,  "  God  is 
good  ;  He  did  not,  will  not  take  you  from  me ;"  but  the 
impassioned  words  were  all  unheard,  she  only,  like  a 


Vernon  Grove.  169 

tired  child,  drew  closer  to  his  bosom,  not  even  knowing 
where  her  head  was  pillowed,  and  soon  Vernon  heard 
her  breathing  in  the  calm  sleep  which  betokens  life  and 
health. 

At  this  a  new  joy  and  strength  rose  in  his  soul,  and 
he  felt  there  was  still  something  bright  in  life — Sybil 
would  live — then  he  yielded  to  the  guide's  remon- 
strances and  gave  her  up  to  the  care  of  his  wife,  who 
laid  her  upon  her  own  pleasant  couch,  and  used  restora- 
tives which  completely  aroused  her  to  consciousness. 
Then  Sybil  begged  to  be  taken  home,  and  when  told 
that  she  was  too  much  exhausted  for  the  drive,  with 
almost  childish  petulance  she  prayed  to  be  carried  to  her 
own  room,  knowing  in  its  familiar  precincts,  with  her 
books  around  her,  the  soft  landscape  without,  and  Lin- 
wood's  calm  picture  of  Evening  within,  that  she  would 
soon  be  restored.  So  they  yielded  to  her  entreaties, 
and  entering  their  carriages  with  the  blessing  of  the 
kind  guide  and  his  wife,  who  had  reason,  from  the  tan- 
gible reward  which  Vernon  left  them,  to  remember  the 
day,  they  were  soon  on  their  way  to  Vernon  Grove. 

Sybil  and  Vernon  were  alone ;  he  could  not  yield  her 
to  the  care  of  another  while  she  was  still  so  weak  and 
helpless,  and  when  lie  found  that  she  was  unable  to  sit 
up,  he  drew  her  head  upon  his  bosom  and  she  rested 
gratefully  there.  She  smiled  her  thanks,  too  prostrated 
in  mind  and  body  to  utter  many  words,  but  remem- 
bering that  he  could  not  see  such  an  acknowledgment, 
said  with  earnest  simplicity,  "  JSTow  I  know  your  worth, 
my  kind  brother;  what  should  I  do  without  your 
friendly  support  ?" 

Vernon  shuddered,  but  it  was  thus  that  he  had  taught 
8 


lyo  Vernon  Grove. 

her  to  address  him.  Words  of  passionate  affection  qui- 
vered on  his  lips,  but  even  had  he  dared  break  his  vow, 
that  was  no  time  or  place,  when  lying  there  still  trem- 
bling and  frightened,  to  tell  her  that  the  heart,  near 
which  she  nestled,  was  beating,  wildly  beating,  with  any- 
thing but  a  brother's  love  for  her  who  rested  there. 

Home  being  reached,  Sybil  insisted  upon  visiting  her 
grandmother's  room,  but  finding  her  well  cared  for  and 
still  in  that  imbecile  childish  state  in  which  she  had  left 
her,  gave  herself  up  into  the  kind  housekeeper's  care, 
who  brought  her  some  simple  nourishment  and  insisted 
upon  her  retiring  at  once  to  her  own  room.  There, 
after  a  fervent  prayer  to  God  for  her  deliverance,  and  an 
upward  look  at  her  favorite  picture,  which  she  had 
remembered  so  faithfully  and  well,  together  with  a 
thought  if  he  who  painted  it  had  ever  dreamed  while  he 
was  executing  it  of  the  calming  power  it  would  possess, 
she  fell  into  a  slumber  like  an  infant's,  as  profound  and 
as  innocent. 

Vernon's  inward  struggle  was  too  strong  for  sleep. 
"  She  calls  me  only  what  I  taught  her,"  said  he  bitterly, 
in  the  loneliness  of  the  night,  "  but  that  word  brother, 
though  so  tenderly  uttered,  chilled  me  through  and 
through.  Ah,  never  can  I  be  to  her  anything  but  that, 
for  have  I  not  vowed  it  ?  And  besides,  she  regards  me 
only  as  such,  and  any  knowledge  of  my  love  for  her 
might  annoy  and  disgust  her,  bereaving  me  even  of  a 
sister's  affection."  Then  he  made  renewed  vows  of 
concealment,  praying  fervently  that  God  would  make 
him  content  that  she  should  be  the  guardian  angel  of 
his  life. 

It  is  a  mad  thing  for  a  man  to  enter  the  lists  against 


Vernon  Grove.  171 

such  a  mighty  power  as  Love,  who  even  with  folded  or 
clipped  wings  can  scale  the  heavens,  or  break  through 
walls  of  adamant ;  and  it  was  a  new  discipline  for  Ver- 
non to  guard  himself  against  the  thousand  ways  in  which 
his  heart  was  assailed  by  the  tempter,  where  inclination 
invited  its  approach,  and  principle  forbade  it.  It  was  a 
life  struggle  in  which  strength  was  opposed  to  an 
almost  equal  strength,  but  writh  Sybil's  welfare  on  his 
side  Vernon  hoped  eventually  for  victory. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

"  Alas !  the  love  of  women !  it  is  known 

To  be  a  lovely  and  a  fearful  thing; 
For  all  of  theirs  upon  that  die  is  thrown, 

And  if  'tis  lost,  life  has  no  more  to  bring 
To  them  but  mockeries  of  the  past  alone." 

BYRON. 

"  And  underneath  that  lace,  like  summer's  oceans, 

Its  lip  as  moveless,  and  its  cheek  as  clear, 
Slumbers  a  whirlwind  of  the  heart's  emotions — 
Love,  hatred,  pride,  hope,  sorrow — all  save  fear." 

HALLECK. 

IT  has  been  said  by  some  writer  that,  in  every  room  of 
an  inhabited  house,  either  a  tragedy  or  a  comedy  is 
being  enacted,  and  could  we  follow  the  footsteps  of  a 
Faust,  it  would  be  easy  to  lift  the  curtains  which  hide 
them  from  view,  but  a  privilege  accorded  to  him  is  also 
given  to  the  writer,  who  would  weave  into  his  story 
somewhat  of  the  inner  life  of  those  whom  he  portrays. 
In  one  of  the  rooms  of  the  mansion  at  Vernon  Grove, 
on  her  return  from  the  excursion  to  the  cave,  sat  Isabel 
Clayton,  far  other  than  the  gay  careless  woman  of  the 
world  that  it  was  her  ambition  to  be.  She  had  dismissed 
her  attendant  abruptly,  and  seating  herself  at  the  win- 
dow, was  looking  out  with  sad  eyes  into  the  prospect 
beyond.  She  seemed  for  once  indifferent  to  appearances, 
for  a  thin  shawl  only  covered  her  undraped  shoulders, 


Vernon  Grove.  173 

and  a  simple  white  robe  falling  around  her,  had  nothing 
in  it  of  the  effect  which  she  daily  studied  in  her  fashion- 
able attire. 

Her  face  had  all  the  requisites  of  beauty,  and  yet  upon 
close  examination,  one  might  have  detected  there,  per- 
haps in  the  lines  about  the  mouth,  weakness  lurking  amid 
the  strength  which  was  the  characteristic  of  her  other 
features. 

She  was  restless,  unhappy  it  would  seem  on  this  night, 
for  with  a  quick  impatient  movement  she  closed  the 
window,  and  taking  a  book  in  her  hand  tried  to  read, 
actually  making  an  effort  to  prevent  her  eyes  wandering 
from  the  page  which  she  had  opened,  but  with  another 
hasty  exclamation,  she  shut  it  again,  and  extinguishing 
her  lamp,  returned  to  the  window,  and  throwing  back 
the  blind  to  its  full  extent,  let  a  flood  of  silvery  moon- 
light into  the  room.  That  wistful  gaze,  those  hands 
pressed  convulsively  upon  her  heart,  told  that  she,  too, 
shared  the  doom  entailed  upon  those  of  mortal  birth, 
for  she,  in  common  with  all,  had  her  secret  sorrow,  her 
unsatisfied  want,  and  her  broken  soliloquy  revealed  at 
once  the  character  of  her  unfulfilled  desire. 

"  Could  it  only  be ;"  she  murmured,  "this  one  passion- 
ate wish  of  my  heart,  how  my  whole  life  would  change; 
how  with  such  a  gift  bestowed  upon  me,  would  this 
craving,  which  the  world  knows  not  of,  be  satisfied.  I 
would  love  her  as  they  tell  me  only  mothers  can  love, 
my  existence  would  be  merged  in  her  little  life ;  popu- 
larity, the  approval  of  the  frivolous  and  fashionable, 
would  be  nought  to  me  then,  except  as  far  as  it  admini- 
stered to  the  wellbeing  of  my  child,  and  when  years  had 
passed  I  should  have  a  companion  to  cheer  me  when 


174  Vernon  Grove. 

the  time  comes,  as  come  it  must  to  all,  when  the 
shadows  lengthen  in  the  way.  Her  little  feet  would 
exchange  the  bounding  steps  of  childhood  for  the  more 
stately  pace  of  womanhood,  and  like  Sybil,  she  would 
shed  the  sunshine  of  her  loveliness  all  around ;  but  God 
wills  it  not  to  be,"  she  continued  more  moodily,  and 
with  a  sudden  flow  of  scalding  tears ;  "  and  to-morrow, 
and  the  next  day,  and  for  ever,  I  must  appear  to  be  happy 
still ;  play  my  part  and  be  applauded ;  still  cheat  Clay- 
ton into  the  belief,  though  a  child  would  be  to  him  an 
idol,  that  our  happiness  is  too  complete  to  be  in- 
creased." 

Scarcely  had  the  deep  sigh  which  followed  these  words 
escaped  her,  when  a  gentle  knock  at  her  door  made  her 
hastily  dry  her  tears,  and  almost  before  she  had  forced 
back  the  habitual  smile  to  her  lips,  Florence  entered 
her  friend's  presence. 

Isabel  started  at  her  appearance. 

She  was  as  pale  as  death  and  almost  as  cold;  her 
magnificent  black  hair  was  thrust  back  from  her  brow, 
and  her  lips  were  quivering  with  unspoken  words  of 
passion,  while  her  eyes,  those  glittering  oriental  eyes, 
had  a  glare  in  them  that  was  almost  madness.  Over  her 
undress  was  thrown,  like  drapery  over  a  statue,  a  white 
cashmere  robe,  which  gave  to  the  outline  of  her  figure 
the  almost  stolid  appearance  of  some  antique  marble 
form.  Walking  noiselessly  up  to  Isabel  as  she  sat  at  the 
window,  she  paused,  while  the  pure  moonlight  clothed 
her  magnificent  figure  in  a  sheen  of  silver  light,  then 
raising  her  arm  slowly  as  if  to  give  more  emphasis  to  her 
words,  she  looked  down  into  Isabel's  upraised  and  won- 
dering eyes,  and  said  with  a  mixture  of  passion  and 


Vernon  Grove.  175 

despair,  "  Isabel,  you  saw  it,  as  did  I ;  he  loves  her  and 
he  is  lost  to  me  for  ever." 

The  impressive  action,  the  slow,  emphatic  utterance 
of  the  words,  the  dreamy  moonlight,  the  mysterious 
figure  of  Florence,  all  combined  to  make  an  exquisite 
picture,  and  Isabel,  with  perceptions  always  alive  to  the 
beautiful,  in  a  playful  tone,  told  Florence  her  impressions, 
but  the  latter  stopped  her  at  once  by  a  gesture  of  im- 
patience. Sinking  down  at  her  friend's  feet,  she  clasped 
her  hands,  and  looking  earnestly  into  her  face,  spoke 
again,  though  in  a  softer  tone. 

"  Isabel,  do  you  love  me  ?"  she  asked. 

"  You  know  that  I  do,"  said  Isabel  tenderly ;  "  have 
we  not  been  children  together,  have  not  our  heads  pressed 
the  same  pillow,  and  our  hearts  been  open  to  each  other 
for  years ;  and  to  sum  up  all  my  affection  for  you  in  a 
little  sentence,  do  I  not  wish  you  to  be  my  sister  and 
Richard's  wife  ?" 

Those  last  words  brought  a  flush  to  Florence's  cheek 
so  radiant,  that  even  in  the  moonlight,  Isabel  saw  it 
crimson  her  upturned  face. 

"  Isabel,"  she  answered,  as  she  rose  once  more  to  her 
feet  and  stood  there  again  like  a  statue,  but  a  statue 
endowed  with  quick  life,  "  you  say  that  you  love  me, 
and  I  trust  you ;  but  your  idea  of  affection  and  mine 
may  be  different.  I  will  tell  you  what  it  is  to  love  ;  it 
is  to  be  all,  endure  all  for  a  beloved  object ;  it  is  to  lose 
sight  of  self  entirely,  to  merge  yourself  in  another's 
welfare ;  can  you  be  all,  endure  all  for  me,  and  thus  prove 
your  love  ?"  f 

Isabel  grew  frightened  at  Florence's  voice  and  man- 
ner— "  What  is  it,"  she  asked,  "  that  you  want  me  to 


176  Vernon  Grove. 

do ;  perhaps  it  is  more  than  one  human  being  ought  to 
promise  to  another." 

"  I  will  lay  my  whole  soul  bare  before  you,  and  then 
you  can  judge,"  was  the  answer.  "  Isabel,  when  I 
entered  this  house,  it  was  my  ambition,  mark  me,  my 
ambition,  to  second  your  wish  and  be  Richard's  wife. 
I  respect  him,  he  is  rich  and  noble,  and  therefore  no  mean 
mark  for  one  of  my  aspiring  character,  and  my  ambition 
could  have  desired  nothing  farther ;  but  a  change  has 
come  over  the  spirit  of  my  dream,  and  but  one  feeling 
reigns  in  my  breast,  but  one  emotion  stirs  my  pulses,  one 
thought  actuates  me  now.  Ask  me  not  how  it  came,  or 
what  provoked  it ;  if  it  was  his  dependent  position  on 
others  which  calls  for  tenderness,  if  the  almost  forgotten 
past,  with  the  cruel  part  I  played  then,  returns  and  up- 
braids me,  I  know  not,  care  not,  but  that  one  feeling  is 
love  for  your  brother,  so  intense,  so  absorbing,  that  I 
would  willingly  give  up  all  my  dreams  of  distinction  and 
wealth,  and  even  were  he  reduced  to  poverty,  these 
hands  would  gladly  guide  him,  toil  for  him,  this  body 
suffer  and  die  for  him.  Now  do  you  understand.  I  must 
win  him,  and  you  alone  can  help  me  to  do  it." 

"  And  what  stands  in  the  way  ?"  said  Isabel,  "  never 
did  a  task  appear  to  me  easier ;  you  have  all  that  even 
a  most  fastidious  man  would  require  for  his  happiness, 
beauty,  genius,  and  all  the  fine  qualities  of  the  heart ; 
win  him  and  be  happy." 

"  I  see  that  you  do  not  understand  me,"  said  Florence 
with  fretful  impatience,  "  there  is  an  obstacle  in  the  way 
which  is  not  so  easy  to  set  aside." 

"  What  a  coward  you  are,"  said  Isabel,  taking  her 
hand  affectionately,  "for  such  a  queen-like,  grand- 


Vernon  Grove.  177 

looking  Avoman.  Never  yield  to  an  obstacle,  never 
let  it  frighten  you  into  inaction ;  discard  it,  throw  it 
away,  scatter  it  to  the  winds,  crush  it  under  foot.  Is  it 
so  mighty  that  it  can  neither  be  displaced  by  time  nor 
energy  ?" 

"  Discard  it,  throw  it  away,  crush  it  under  foot !"  was 
the  response,  "  he  guards  her  with  too  jealous  a  love ; 
that  obstacle,  Isabel,  is  Sybil  Gray  /" 

Isabel's  silvery  laugh  rang  through  the  room,  a  strange 
contrast  to  the  deep  earnest  tone  of  Florence. 

"  Sybil  Gray,  little  Sybil  Gray !»  she  laughed.  "  She, 
then,  is  your  formidable  rival.  Would  you  put  the  half- 
hidden  violet  in  competition  with  the  rose,  shone  upon 
and  brightened  by  heaven's  own  coloring?  Why, 
Florence,  your  obstacle  has  diminished  into  nothingness. 
She  is  a  mere  child  compared  with  Richard,  and  besides, 
do  you  not  see  that  she  often  calls  him  '  brother,'  and 
treats  him  like  one  ?  Do  not  let  her  for  a  moment  come 
between  him  and  your  wishes  and  plans.  But  stay ;  if 
you  fear  her  influence  at  ah1,  leave  the  matter  entirely  to 
me.  I  will  tell  Richard  that  she  requires  a  change,  first, 
in  consequence  of  her  long  devotion  to  him  in  his  sick- 
room, and  second,  because  of  the  events  of  to-day, 
which  will  necessarily  have  an  effect  upon  her  bodily 
health.  Convince  him  of  this,  and  it  will  be  an  easy 
task  for  us  to  persuade  him  to  allow  her  to  go  with  us  to 
the  city.  Once  there,  her  wonderful  beauty  and  gift  of 
song  wall  attract  many  admirers,  and  soon,  surrounded 
by  men  enraptured  with  her  loveliness,  the  child  will 
discover  that  she  requires  something  more  than  Richard's 
quiet  approval  of  all  that  she  does,  and  then  we  can 
make  a  match  for  her  to  our  liking.  But  mark  me, 
8* 


)  78  Vernon  Grove. 

Florence,"  continued  Isabel  in  a  more  serious  tone,  "  it 
must  be  what  the  world  calls  a  g»od  match  in  all  points, 
for  I  love  the  artless  innocent  creature  almost  as  much 
as  I  love  you.  The  difference  between  you  is,  that  you 
appeal  to  me  with  your  noble  gorgeous  beauty  and  your 
devotion  to  myself,  while  she  binds  me  with  her  more 
quiet  and  nameless  graces  and  fascinations." 

"  With  these  she  has  wyon  your  brother's  love,"  said 
Florence  scornfully. 

"  I  will  take  care  to  have  her  debtit  a  brilliant  one," 
said  Isabel,  not  minding  the  interruption,  "  and  she  must 
and  will  create  a  sensation.  Richard  will  soon  forget 
her,  and  then  we  can  pay  him  a  second  visit  when  she 
has  left  him  for  another's  home  and  love,  and  there  will 
no  longer  be  a  Sybil  Gray  to  stand  between  you  and 
your  happiness." 

Two  beautiful  creations  they  were,  Florence  clasping 
Isabel's  hand,  Isabel's  face  wearing  a  pleased  satisfied 
expression  at  having  arranged  such  a  feasible  plan  for 
her  friend,  whose  countenance  was  the  very  picture  of 
Hope,  and  the  bright  moonlight  flooding  both  with  its 
silvery  glory. 

"  How  kind  you  are,  dearest,"  whispered  Florence. 

"  Should  I  not  be  kind  to  my  sister  ?"  returned  Isabel. 

"Hush,"  said  Florence,  in  a  playful  tone  of  warning, 
"be  not  too  sure,  for  nothing  in  life  is  certain  ;"  but  even 
while  she  spoke,  her  heart  fluttered  wildly,  her  eyes 
glistened,  and  she  pressed  a  kiss  upon  Isabel's  lips  as  a 
seal  to  her  welcome  words ;  then  with  a  more  buoyant 
step  than  that  with  which  she  had  entered,  she  departed 
to  her  own  room.  The  light,  the  loveliness  of  extreme 
youth  seemed  to  have  returned  to  her  once  more ;  her 


Vernon  Grove.  179 

eyes  shone  through  a  dewy  moisture,  her  voice  broke 
unconsciously  into  song,  whose  burden  was  passionate 
affection ;  then  she  looked  out  upon  the  glorious  night 
as  she  had  never  looked  before,  with  a  new  interest,  a 
new  life,  while  her  lips  whispered  a  few  words,  an  index 
to  the  bewildering  sensation  which  made  her  so  buoy- 
antly happy : — "  This,  they  say,  is  love,  this  feeling 
which  makes  the  air  softer,  the  heart  lighter,  the  whole 
world  more  glorious;"  then  their  rich  com  I  curled  as 
though  in  scorn,  her  hands  closed  tightly,  and  a  fiercer 
light  burned  in  her  eyes  as  a  vision  of  a  fair-haired  girl, 
with  a  floating  step,  passed  before  her;  and  she  paced 
the  floor  with  the  air  of  a  conquering  queen,  swept  back 
the  waving  hair  from  her  shoulders,  and  again  the  lips 
whispered  or  rather  hissed  other  words,  all  unfit  to  have 
issued  from  her  clenched  teeth,  the  ivory  portal  through 
which  they  passed  ;  "  and  this  is  hate  and  triumph  /" 

And  Sybil  slept  on,  her  white  hands  crossed  meekly 
upon  her  breast,  her  golden  tresses  shading  her  seraphic 
brow,  upon  her  lips  a  smile,  and  in  her  breast  the  quiet 
of  a  heart  at  peace  with  herself  and  all  the  world,  little 
dreaming  that  over  her  hovered  those  angels  of  destruc- 
tion, marking  out  her  future,  and  plotting  for  her  very 
life. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

"What  shall  I  do  with  all  the  days  and  hours 

That  must  be  counted  ere  I  see  thy  face  ? 

How  shall  I  charm  the  interval  that  lowers 

Between  this  time  and  that  sweet  tune  of  grace  ? 

Oh,  how,  or  by  what  means,  may  I  contrive 

To  bring  the  hour  that  brings  thee  back  more  near  ? 

How  may  I  teach  my  drooping  hope  to  live 
Until  that  blessed  tune,  and  thou  art  here?" 

MRS.  BUTLER. 

"Her  voice  is  soft ;  not  shrill  and  like  the  lark's, 
But  tenderer — graver." 

IT  was  no  hard  task  for  Isabel  and  Florence  to  alarm 
Vernon  about  Sybil's  health,  and  as  if  nature  were 
plotting  with  them,  she  certainly  seemed  weak,  and  her 
cheeks  grew  colorless  after  her  adventure  in  the  cave. 
She  seldom  laughed  that  rich  ringing  laugh  of  heart 
merriment,  but  smiled  instead,  while  her  voice,  which 
had  burst  into  song  as  naturally  as  the  voice  of  a  bird  in 
the  woodlands,  each  day  grew  more  mute,  and  the  effort 
which  she  made  to  conceal  what  was  passing  within, 
only  rendered  her  more  unlike  the  bright  and  happy 
creature  of  the  past.  In  fact  a  deep  shadow  had  passed 
over  the  young  girl's  life,  as  is  generally  the  case  with 
all  thinking  beings  after  some  great  peril ;  she  felt,  with 
awe,  what  she  had  escaped,  and  the  reflection  made  her 


Vernon  Grove.  181 

subdued  and  serious,  so  that  Vernon,  missing  her  accus- 
tomed playflilncss,  was  easily  persuaded  that  she  needed 
a  change.  None  but  he,  however,  could  tell  at  what  a 
sacrifice  he  yielded  to  her  going  away  from  his  own  pro- 
tecting care ;  none  but  he  or  one  who  loves  and  who 
feels  willing  to  make  any  sacrifice  for  the  welfare  of  the 
beloved  one. 

But  Isabel,  in  her  zeal  for  her  friend  Florence,  not 
only  wrought  upon  her  brother's  feelings,  but  upon 
Sybil's,  telling  her  that  it  was  Vernon's  desire  that  she 
should  visit  the  city,  as  it  would,  besides  "restoring  her 
to  perfect  health,  add  to  her  advantages,  improve  her 
touch  in  drawing,  and  acquaint  her  with  new  styles  of 
singing,  while  mixing  in  the  most  polished  society  would 
give  to  her  manners  a  tone  which  one  who  had  always 
lived  in  the  country  needed  in  order  to  be  perfectly 
refined.  As  a  desire  of  Vernon's  was  fast  getting  to  be 
something  of  sacred  importance  in  Sybil's  mind,  she 
consented  to  listen  to  her  new  prospects,  but  at  the  same 
time  pleaded  as  an  excuse  for  not  readily  assenting  to 
Isabel's  kind  wish,  her  grandmother's  precarious  state 
of  health.  Isabel  soon  overruled  that  objection  by 
saying  that  it  mattered  little  to  Mrs.  Gordon  what 
attendant  she  had  in  the  present  phase  of  her  decay, 
arid  if  the  smallest  change  occurred,  Sybil  should  be 
sent  for  at  once.  Finding  that  this  last  argument  nearly 
caused  Sybil  to  yield  to  the  proposed  change,  with  artful 
eloquence  which  was  worthy  of  a  better  cause,  she  drew 
a  picture  of  all  that  the  young  novice  would  enjoy,  the 
genius  of  the  stage,  music,  society,  painting;  the  com- 
panionship of  intellectual  men  and  women,  perhaps  some 
of  those  very  authors  whose  works  were  to  her  as 


182  Vernon  Grove. 

household  gods,  until  Sybil,  not  proof  against  these  new 
fascinations  and  Isabel's  sisterly  kindness,  looked  forward 
herself  with  intense  pleasure  to  the  hour  of  departure 
for  such  a  bright  and  beautiful  world  of  happiness. 

The  evening  before  the  day  fixed  upon  for  the  party 
to  leave  Vernon  Grove  brought  with  it  varied  feelings 
to  all  concerned.  Vernon  was  unmistakably  sad  and 
gloomy,  Isabel  glad  almost  to  child-like  gaiety  to  escape 
once  more  to  her  old  life  of  constant  excitement,  and 
Florence  content  to  leave  even  the  object  of  her  passion- 
ate attachment  because  she  would  thereby  arrive  one 
step  nearer  the  execution  of  her  plans. 

Now  that  the  hour  of  departure  was  so  near,  there 
was  a  severe  struggle  going  on  in  Sybil's  heart,  and  she 
was  gay,  restless,  sad,  tearful,  and  joyful  by  turns.  She 
now  felt  the  significance  of  that  dirge-like  word  "  Fare- 
well." Not  only  to  Vernon  would  she  be  obliged  to 
utter  it,  but  to  the  faithful  though  unconscious  guardian 
of  her  earlier  years ;  to  the  kind  domestics  who  had  ever 
looked  upon  her  with  respect ;  and  even  the  inanimate 
objects  which  had  been  her  companions  so  long  must  be 
included  in  the  parting ;  the  landscape  seen  from  her 
window,  the  trees  which  had  sheltered  her,  the  very 
humblest  flowers  which  had  sprung  up  in  her  daily  path. 
Yes,  even  though  the  brightest  future  awaited  her,  Sybil 
felt  that  a  parting  was  a  serious  thing. 

"  I  must  speak  to  you  a  few  minutes  alone,"  said  Ver- 
non to  her,  as  Isabel  and  Florence  bade  them  good-night 
earlier  than  usual,  to  make  arrangements  for  the  morrow ; 
"  but  you  seem  so  particularly  happy  that  perhaps  a 
sober  quiet  talk  would  not  suit  your  mood." 

Vernon  had  heard  the  laughing  "  good-night "  from 


Vernon  Grove.  183 

Sybil  which  followed  Isabel's  injunctions  to  be  ready 
early  on  the  morrow,  but  did  not  see  the  bright  tear 
which  dimmed  her  eyes  a  moment  afterwards  when  she 
turned  towards  his  downcast  face,  and  had  judged  her 
only  by  the  first ;  but  she  made  no  answer  to  his  ques- 
tion, so  reproachful  in  its  tone,  except  by  twining  her 
arm  within  his  and  leading  him  to  his  favorite  seat,  and 
then  sitting,  as  was  her  custom  before  the  arrival  of  their 
guests,  on  a  footstool  at  his  feet. 

"  Yes,  I  must  talk  to  you  before  you  go,"  said  Vernon, 
"  somewhat  as  we  conversed  before  this  hateful  visit ;  I 
mean  in  the  same  familiar  way ;  I  must  tell  you  with 
what  a  sense  of  unrest  this  coming  absence  of  yours 
oppresses  me,  how  I  wish  that  the  visit  were  over,  and 
that  this  night,  this  hour,  you  had  come  back  to  me  and 
Vernon  Grove  again.  Ah,  I  shall  miss  you  sadly,  sadly, 
Sybil." 

Her  youthful  hopeful  heart  could  prognosticate  no 
evil  in  that  brief  absence,  and  she  tried  to  laugh  away 
his  fears. 

"  Turn  to  the  bright  side  of  the  picture,"  she  said 
smilingly,  "and  think  of  only  that.  Remember  how 
many  things  I  shall  have  to  tell  you  of  when  I  return, 
how  many  new  songs  to  sing  you ;  and  then  call  to  mind 
Mrs.  Clayton's  fine  promises.  This  visit,  she  says,  is  to 
transform  me  into  a  being  of  almost  ideal  perfections ; 
just  think  how  graceful,  charming,  and  accomplished  the 
country  girl  will  become  under  the  new  experiences 
which  await  her." 

"  I  know  all,  can  imagine  all,"  said  he,  unmoved  by 
her  pleasantry,  "  but  no  bright  anticipations  are  to  me 
like  a  real  presence.  A  blind  man's  world  is  narrowed 


184  Vernon  Grove. 

down,  as  far  as  relates  to  externals,  to  a  mere  point. 
What  Sybil  Gray  z«,  satisfies  me,  I  care  not  to  look  for- 
ward to  what  she  will  be" 

Ah  !  how  his  soul  longed  to  say  a  few  words  of  love 
to  bind  her  to  him  for  ever,  but  he  did  not,  would  not ; 
his  sense  of  right  guided  him  perhaps ;  or  perchance  the 
thought  that  he  might  so  interfere  with  some  brighter 
destiny  which  awaited  her,  checked  him,  and  he  only 
uttered  the  first  word  of  his  intended  appeal ;  one  word, 
she  had  often  heard  it  from  his  lips,  but  never  in  such  a 
way ;  one  word,  but  whether  the  tone  in  which  it  was 
spoken  was  that  of  love  or  hate,  unutterable  tenderness 
or  reproach,  she  could  not  determine  in  her  own  mind, 
but  that  it  came  like  a  meteor,  as  unexpectedly  and  as 
sudden,  that  it  sent  the  hot  blood  tingling  to  her  brow, 
that  whatever  it  meant  it  filled  her  with  a  strange  power 
— this  she  knew  and  felt,  and  the  word  was  simply  her 
own  familiar  name,  "  Sybil." 

There  was  a  pause  for  a  moment,  but  her  voice  at  last 
broke  it, — 

"  I  am  listening,  Mr.  Vernon,"  she  said. 

"  Better  be  silent,"  he  answered  impetuously,  "  than 
give  utterance  to  that  cold  measured  '  Mr.  Vernon.'' 
I  hate  it,  Sybil ;  it  chills  me  through  and  through." 

"  I  should  have  said  brother,"  said  she  in  a  softer  tone, 
and  anxious  to  conciliate  him,  "but  I  am  so  thoughtless, 
so  forgetful,  that  I  do  not  always  remember  the  word  you 
wish  me  to  say,  and  which  is  so  pleasant  to  me  to  utter." 

"No,  nor  that  either,"  he  exclaimed,  writhing  as 
though  some  nerve  had  sustained  an  injury,  "  let  it  be 
llichard,  Sybil,  and  though  it  were  earth's  harshest 
sound,  it  will  turn  to  music  if  you  utter  it." 


Vernon  Grove.  185 

Sybil  tried  and  tried  in  vain  to  frame  the  word  aloud, 
the  distance  was  too  immeasurably  great  between  them, 
and  it  died  away  unuttered  on  her  lips. 

"  I  cannot,  cannot,"  she  said  frankly  at  last,  "  it  seems 
almost  disrespectful  in  me  to  think  of  such  a  thing,  you 
have  seen  so  many  more  years  than  I  have,  Mr.  Vernon ; 
and  perhaps  you  do  not  know,"  she  continued  playfully, 
as  she  saw  a  threatening  frown  on  Vernon's  brow,  and 
hoped  by  her  pleasantry  to  drive  it  away,  "  that  you 
even  look  older  than  you  are,  for  since  your  illness  a 
host  of  silver  hairs  have  appeared  shining  out  from 
among  the  darker  ones  on  your  brow,  like  a  sort  of  cloak 
to  mark  the  hour  of  your  life,  or  perhaps  to  warn  me 
about  the  difference  of  our  years." 

No  sooner  had  Sybil  uttered  these  words  than  she 
became  conscious  that  she  had  done  wrong,  for  a  shade 
of  intense  sadness  passed  over  Vernon's  face,  and  mourn- 
fully was  his  answer  spoken. 

"  You  are  severe,  but  just,  Sybil ;  meaning  kindness, 
but  inflicting  wounds  upon  the  very  eve  of  your  departure 
from  the  home  where  we  have  been  so  happy  together." 

"  Forgive  me,"  she  answered  quickly,  "  you  see  there 
is  another  lesson  which  you  must  teach  me,  and  that  is 
not  to  say  anything  impolite  or  unacceptable ;  I  am  sure 
that  I  did  not  mean  to  wound  you  just  now  by  my 
remark,  and  after  all  I  should  not  be  surprised  to  see 
the  grey  hairs  in  clusters  upon  my  own  head,  following 
that  terrible  experience  in  the  cave.  There  have  been 
those,  you  know,  whose  hair  has  turned  white  in  a  single 
night ;  I  wonder  that  mine  did  not  then." 

Vernon  passed  his  hand  caressingly  over  her  bright 
luxuriant  locks. 


i86  Vernon  Grove. 

"Ah,"  he  said  tenderly,  "that  was  indeed  a  terrible 
hour ;  I  scarcely  could  have  lived  had  I  lost  my  little 
Sybil  then." 

There  was  a  trembling  earnestness  in  his  tone  that 
went  straight  to  Sybil's  heart,  and  she  longed  to  make 
entire  reparation  for  the  remark  which  she  thought  had 
pained  him. 

"  I  will  tell  you  what  I  will  do,"  she  said  half  playfully, 
half  seriously ;  "  you  know  that  I  am  going  away  to-mor- 
row, and  you  will  miss  me  so  at  Vernon  Grove  that  it 
will  seem  a  very  long  time  before  I  return,  particularly 
if  I  pay  a  visit  to  aunt  Mary  before  I  come  back ;  this 
prelude  is  to  make  you  sensible  that  the  time  of  my  being 
absent,  and  my  large  experience,  will  have  added  almost 
a  cycle  to  my  years,  while  you,  remaining  here,  will  be 
stationary  for  a  while,  and  so  I  promise  you  freely  and 
fully  with  this  addition  of  years  on  my  part,  which  will 
make  us  equal,  that  when  I  see  Vernon  Grove  again,  I 
will  have  courage  to  address  you,  if  you  still  desire  it, 
even  by  the  name  of  the  lion-hearted  king." 

A  flood  of  joy  swept  through  Vernon's  heart ;  that 
promise  brought  her  one  step  nearer  to  him,  and  it  was 
a  blessed  thought  that  the  word  Richard  would  be  con- 
verted into  music  by  her  lips ;  but  no  future  pleasure 
could  take  away  the  present  pang  of  parting,  and  he 
recurred  to  it  again. 

"  How  silent  will  the  Grove  be  when  you  leave  it,  dear 
child ;  what  shall  I  do  without  your  voice,  Sybil  ?  I  do 
not  mean  simply  in  singing,  but  in  reading  and  con- 
versing. The  blind  miss  a  voice  almost  as  much  as  a 
bodily  presence,  and  I  have  always  pretended  to  read 
character  by  the  voice.  My  blindness  has  thus  taught 


Vernon  Grove.  187 

me  to  depend  more  on  my  instincts  than  ever,  and  my  love 
and  hatred  for  people  ai%e  determined  by  their  voices." 

"  Yon  depend  almost  as  much  on  a  peculiar  tone  of 
voice,"  answered  Sybil,  "  as  the  author  of  some  lines  I 
read  the  other  day.  I  committed  them  to  memory,  and 
some  day  when  I  return  and  you  are  in  want  of  entertain- 
ment and  lonely,  I  will  repeat  them  to  you." 

"  And  why  not  now  ?"  he  asked ;  "  is  it  so  late  that  you 
can  not  spare  me  a  few  more  minutes?  Ah,  Sybil,  by- 
and-by  you  will  give  to  others  in  the  dance  far  more  time 
than  that  which  you  deny  me ;  by-and-by  you  will  forget 
me  quite,  or  remember  me  only  as  the  blind  man  who  was 
so  dependent  upon  you,  and  who  wished  for  your  com- 
panionship when  you  could  be  far  better  employed  than 
by  entertaining  him." 

Sybil  had  heard  many  a  storm  of  anger  burst  from 
Vernon's  lips,  but  quite  unused  to  the  querulous  tone  of 
reproach  which  was  now  in  the  ascendant,  and  sorry  to 
have  provoked  it,  she  tried  by  her  good  nature  to  make 
amends  for  what  had  passed. 

"  I  did  not  think  that  you  would  care  very  much  to 
hear  them  now,"  she  said,  "  and  as  for  its  being  too  late 
to  recite  them,  that  certainly  was  not  my  excuse,  for  I 
really  feel  as  if  I  could  not  sleep  to-night.  I  do  not 
know  after  all,  if  you  would  like  the  lines  as  much  as  I 
do,  for  perhaps  it  is  only  their  earnestness  which  recom- 
mends them ;  they  are  simply  words  from  a  very  loving 
heart,  linked  together  by  a  rhyme ;  by  a  loving  heart,  I 
mean  one  which  loves  as  the  heroes  and  heroines  in  novels 
love." 

"  What  you  have  said  of  them  does  not  take  from  me 
the  desire  to  hear  them,"  returned  Yernon,  "though 


i88  Vernon  Grove. 

such  love  seems  to  be  denied  me,  and  though  my  whole 
life  as  regards  the  affections  must  be  one  long  disappoint- 
ment. But  even  if  this  be  the  case,  I  can  still  sympathize 
with  the  loving  and  beloved." 

Sybil  imagined  that  he  alluded  to  his  experience  in 
regard  to  Florence,  and  her  voice  grew  tenderer  in  its 
pity  as  she  repeated  the  lines  addressed — 

"  TO  A  BELOVED  VOICE. 

"  Speak  it  once  more,  once  more,  in  accents  soft, 

Let  the  delicious  music  reach  mine  ear, 
Tell  me  in  murmured  accents  oft  and  oft, 
That  I  am  dear. 

"  Teach  me  the  spell  that  clings  around  a  word, 

Teach  to  my  lips  the  melody  of  thine, 
And  let  the  spoken  name  most  often  heard 
Be  mine,  be  mine. 

44  Why  in  the  still  and  dreamy  twilight  hour, 

"When  lone  and  tender  musings  fill  the  breast, 
Why  does  thy  voice  with  its  peculiar  power 
Still  my  unrest  ? 

"  Why  does  the  memory  of  thy  faintest  tone 

In  the  deep  midnight  come  upon  my  soul, 
And  cheer  the  parting  hours,  so  sad  and  lone. 
As  on  they  roll  ? 

"  Oh,  if  iny  passions  overflow  their  bound, 

Or  pride,  or  hate,  or  anger  call  for  blame, 
Do  thou,  with  earnest,  mild,  rebuking  sound, 
But  breathe  my  name : 

"  But  show  the  better  way  by  thee  approved, 
Bid  me  control  my  erring  wayward  will, 
And  at  the  chiding  of  thy  voice  beloved, 
All  shall  be  still." 


Vernon  Grove.  189 

Burning  words  were  upon  Yernon's  lips,  even  an  echo 
to  the  burden  of  the  lines,  "  Thus,  Sybil,  my  beloved,  is 
thy  voice  unto  me,"  but  by  a  strong  effort  he  forced  them 
back,  and  thanked  her  calmly  for  her  kindness." 

And  then  the  parting  came. 

"  Good-night,  Mr.  Vernon,  almost  good-by." 

"  And  are  you  going  to  leave  me  with  a  cold  shake  of 
the  hand,  Sybil  ?  Are  we,  brother  and  sister,  companions 
from  the  far  past,  from  the  years  of  your  childhood,  are 
we  to  part  thus  ?  Has  not  a  prayer  followed  you  if  you 
but  strayed  from  my  presence  ?  Have  I  not  watched 
you,  taught  you,  cared  for  you,  loved  you,  and  can  you 
think  of  no  way  to  leave  me  to  my  loneliness  but  this  ? 
Can  you  give  me  no  memory  but  what  a  stranger  gives 
to  a  stranger,  the  common  every-day  clasp  of  a  hand  ?" 

It  scarcely  needed  these  words  to  overcome  Sybil, 
who  had  been  in  a  state  of  excitement  for  the  past  few 
days,  and  suddenly  a  shower  of  tears  rained  from  her 
eyes.  Though  it  was  too  late  to  retract,  it  seemed  to  her 
now  that  the  time  was  really  approaching,  ungrateful  in 
her  to  leave  her  benefactor,  her  friend,  her  teacher, 
particularly  since  he  now  appeared  somewhat  reluctant 
to  have  her  go. 

"  I  owe  you  all  that  I  am,"  sobbed  she,  like  a  poor 
penitent  child;  "you  have  taught  me  everything,  teach 
me  now.  How  should  we  part,  tell  me,  and  now  as  ever, 
I  would  obey  my  teacher's  most  trivial  wish." 

The  strong  man  trembled  for  a  moment,  half  unclosed 
his  arms,  yearning  to  enfold  her  in  his  embrace  and  to 
keep  her  there  for  ever,  resisted  the  impulse,  and  crushed 
some  rebellious  thought  which  had  nearly  overmastered 
him,  then  folding  them  tightly  over  his  breast,  a  shield 


190  Vernon  Grove. 

against  the  strong  temptation  which  beset  him,  bent 
down,  pressed  a  fervent  kiss  upon  her  brow,  blessed  and 
then  released  her. 

Sybil  departed  to  her  own  room,  but  twice  paused  on 
her  way  thither  as  she  thought  that  she  heard  her  name 
borne  to  her  by  the  wind  as  it  rushed  through  the  long 
corridor,  but  hearing  it  not  repeated  again,  concluded 
that  it  was  only  her  imagination.  She  was  the  more 
ready  to  admit  this  conclusion  as  she  had  just  left  Vernon ; 
he  had  said  his  last  words,  and  the  rest  of  the  household 
were  hushed  in  slumber,  and  she  soon  lost  all  memory  of 
it  in  the  little  preparations  which  still  remained  for  her  to 
make  for  the  morrow's  journey.  Had  she  traced  the 
source  of  that  mysterious  cry,  had  she -returned  and 
beheld  Vernon  wildly  entreating  her  to  have  mercy  upon 
him  and  to  leave  him  not ;  had  she  heard  his  passionate 
words  of  affection  and  the  touching  appeal  addressed  to 
her  in  his  despair,  perhaps  her  destiny  would  have  been 
decided  then  and  there ;  but  it  was  otherwise  decreed, 
the  morning's  sun  saw  Sybil's  departure  from  Vernon 
Grove  and  its  master,  to  behold  them,  if  ever  again,  how 
and  when  ? 


* 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

"  'Tis  a  proud  chamber  and  a  rich,    . 
Filled  with  the  world's  most  costly  things 
Of  precious  stones  and  gold ; 
Of  laces,  silks  and  jewelry, 
And  all  that's  bought  and  sold." 

"  And  her  face  is  lily-clear, 
Lily-shaped,  and  drooped  in  duty 
To  the  law  of  its  own  beauty. 

And  a  forehead  fair  and  saintly, 
Which  two  blue  eyes  undershine, 
Like  meek  prayers  before  a  shrine. 

And  her  smile  it  seems  most  holy, 
As  if  drawn  from  thoughts  more  far 
Then  our  common  jestiugs  are. 

And  if  any  painter  drew  her, 
He  would  paint  her  unaware 
With  a  halo  round  her  hair." 

MRS.  BROWNING. 

"  So,  your  toilette  is  finished,  Sybil ;  it  is  well,  for  our 
guests  will  arrive  presently.  Like  a  patient  audience  I 
hav '.  been  awaiting  the  rising  of  the  curtain,  and  now  I 
am  ready  to  applaud  or  condemn.  Are  you  sure  that 
art  and  nature  leagued  together  have  done  their  very 
best  ?  Before  I  judge  for  myself  I  must  have  that  lamp 
s-o  the  left  shaded  somewhat,  and  the  other  raised,  so  that 


192  Vernon  Grove. 

I  may  see  the  effect  of  that  new  coiffure  upon  your  style 
of  face.  People,  like  paintings,  should  only  be  criticised 
in  certain  lights.  Incline  that  wave  of  hair  a  little  more 
upon  your  brow,  there,  that  is  more  artistic,  and  now, 
Sybil,  I  cannot  help  it  if  those  Madonna-like  eyes  of 
yours  are  raised  in  pious  remonstrance,  for  I  must  say 
what  I  think, — you  are  beautiful,  positively  the  most 
beautiful" 

Sybil's  beseeching  look  at  Isabel,  and  her  white-gloved 
hand  laid  upon  her  arm,  arrested  her  words. 

"  Well,  I  will  stop,  since  you  wish  me  not  to  be  per- 
sonal, and  will  generalize  and  modify  what  I  was  about 
to  say.  After  all,  fashion  is  the  thing ;  take  even  an  ugly 
woman  from  the  dairy,  Frenchify  her  a  little,  and  she  will 
become  quite  handsome  under  refined  and  refining  hands, 
while  you,  Sybil,  ah,  I  dare  not  tell  you  what  you  have 
become." 

Isabel  might  have  been  pardoned  for  gazing  in  admi- 
ration upon  the  lovely  face  and  form  before  her.  It  was 
the  night  of  Sybil's  debtit,  and  she  had  yielded  herself  to 
her  friend's  hands  to  be  attired  as  she  wished ;  and  Isabel, 
guided  by  her  perfect  taste,  had  chosen  what  was  most 
appropriate  in  its  simplicity,  pure  white,  gauzy  and 
floating,  and  almost  like  gossamer  in  its  fine  texture. 
Let  others  wear  what  they  choose,  she  said,  let  Sybil 
load  herself  ever  after  with  gems  and  finery,  that  night 
she  belonged  exclusively  to  her,  and  she  should  have  no 
ornament  save  her  own  faultless  beauty,  and  she  was 
satisfied  with  the  result,  even  the  fastidious  Isabel. 

Sybil  had  been  one  week  the  inmate  of  Mrs.  Clayton's 
city  home ;  she  was  used  to  luxury,  but  not  such  as  this ; 
she  had  dreamed  of  enjoyment,  and  was  more  than 


Vernon  Grove.  193 

satisfied,  for  here  she  met  with  kindness  on  every  side, 
and  everything  seemed  ta  minister  to  her  taste  for  the 
beautiful.  Isabel  was  delighted  with  her  fresh  unspoiled 
heart,  and  had  taken  her  protegee  under  her  peculiar  care, 
first  because  she  felt  somewhat  the  sacredness  of  the 
charge,  and  again  because  the  young  girl,  whom  she  had 
brought  from  her  retired  home  suddenly  into  the  glare 
of  the  great  world,  was  a  curiosity  to  her,  something  new 
under  the  sun,  and  her  very  straight-forward  simplicity 
of  character,  so  in  opposition  to  her  own  worldly  training, 
interested  her  as  a  study ;  while  Clayton,  fancying  what 
she  fancied,  took  Sybil  at  once  to  his  heart  and  home, 
rejoicing  that  his  wife  found  something  to  amuse  and 
interest  her.  Of  Florence,  that  regal  woman  who  always 
appeared  to  Sybil  as  if  newly  stepped  from  her  throne, 
she  saw  comparatively  little,  nor  did  she  regret  it,  for 
the  old  feeling  of  the  dove  in  the  presence  of  the  hawk, 
fluttered  her  too  much  for  her  sensations  to  be  those  of 
perfect  peace.  As  a  reason  for  her  sudden  withdrawal 
from  the  world  of  fashion,  Florence  had  declared  herself 
weary  of  society,  expressing  a  contempt  for  its  forms 
and  institutions  sadly  at  variance  with  her  former  tastes, 
while  she  expatiated  largely  upon  the  delights  of  a  country 
residence,  and  thus,  though  Sybil  knew  that  she  was 
frequently  closetted  wTith  Isabel,  discussing  some  matter 
seemingly  of  importance,  seldom  did  she  meet  her  in  the 
never-ending  round  of  engagements  into  which  she  had 
been  drawn  by  Isabel. 

On  the  night  of  Sybil's  deMt  Mr.  Clayton's  house  was 

to  be  opened  to  a  large  circle  of  Isabel's  friends,  and 

Sybil's  heart  beat  tumultuously  as  she  descended  to  the 

gorgeously  lighted  rooms,  and  thought  of  the  contrast 

9 


194  Vernon  Grove. 

which  that  evening  would  present  to  her  past  secluded 
life ;  it  was  a  new  and  not  perfectly  agreeable  ordeal  to 
her  because  of  her  embarrassment,  and  she  half  shrank 
back  from  the  blaze  of  light  Avhich  she  encountered. 
A  friendly  glance,  however,  met  her,  and  a  friendly 
hand  took  her  own,  and  she  felt  relieved  to  find  that  as 
yet  Mr.  Clayton  was  the  only  occupant  of  the  room, 
while  a  few  pleasant  words  of  approval  of  her  simple 
dress  tended  still  more  to  reassure  her. 

"  It  argues  well  for  her  future  obedience  to  my  com- 
mands," said  Isabel  fondly  "  to  be  so  entirely  guided  by 
my  wishes;  her  dress  wants  nothing  in  its  airy  grace 
except  perhaps  a  set  of  pearl  ornaments.  They  might 
indeed  add  to  the  purity  of  her  appearance,  for  there  is 
something  in  their  unostentatious  beauty  that  softens 
without  gilding,  and  one  can  fancy  the  holy  women  of 
old,  if  wearing  jewelry  at  all,  preferring  only  pearls." 

Mr.  Clayton  smiled  and  looked  tenderly  at  his  lovely 
wife,  who  seemed  for  once  to  forget  herself  in  her  interest 
for  another,  and  then  with  an  air  of  mystery  placed  a 
casket  in  her  hands. 

"  You  always  said,  Isabel,  that  I  was  your  good  fairy, 
and  lo,  here  are  what  you  have  just  wished  for,  a  set  of 
pearls  for  Sybil.  I  heard  you  say  that  her  dress  was  to 
be  of  white,  and  knowing  that  there  could  be  such  a  thing 
as  painting  the  rose  and  gilding  the  lily,  I  trust  that  she 
will  accept  them,  and  I  shall  be  amply  repaid  by  your 
approval  and  her  wearing  them  to-night." 

Isabel  impulsively  threw  her  arms  around  Clayton's 
neck,  much  to  the  detriment  of  her  elaborate  toilette, 
while  Sybil  thanked  him  with  eloquent  words,  and 
certainly  when  they  were  clasped  around  her  snowy 


Vernon  Grove.  195 

neck  and  ai'ms,  one  might  have  wondered  how  she  had 
seemed  so  fair  without  them. 

"I  wish  that  Vernon  could  see  Sybil  now,"  said 
Clayton,  who  was,  not  included  in  the  secret  shared 
between  Isabel  and  Florence,  "  he  would  think  that  she 
was  some  spirit  draped  in  earthly  robes;  he  must  be 
lonely  enough  at  the  Grove,  with  no  joyful  tongue  to 
give  him  welcome  home ;  why  did  you  not  bring  him. 
with  you,  Isabel  ?" 

"  The  truth  is,"  said  Isabel,  frowning  a  little  at  the 
unwelcome  introduction  of  his  name,  "  that  I  did  ask 
Richard  to  accompany  us,  but  without  any  hope  of 
success,  for  he  said  that  he  should  not  feel  at  home 
anywhere  away  from  his  every-day  haunts,  and  so  refused 
my  invitation ;  and  now  remember,  Clayton,  I  want  his 
to  be  a  forbidden  name  while  Sybil  is  here,  for  fear  that 
it  will  bring  back  old  memories  of  birds  and  flowers,  and 
make  her  want  to  fly  away  to  the  woods  once  more." 

Tears  came  into  Sybil's  eyes,  pearls  brighter  than  those 
which  clasped  her  fair  neck,  for  she  thought  of  Vernon  and 
her  grandmother  alone  in  their  solitude,  but  she  brushed 
them  away  hastily  as  the  bell  from  the  hall  sounded. 
It  was  not  indeed  the  quick  energetic  ring  of  an  aris- 
tocrat's footman,  but  so  near  the  time  for  the  assembling 
of  his  guests  as  to  lead  Mr.  Clayton  to  expect  them  and 
to  advance  forward  a  step,  while  the  white-gloved  waiter 
threw  open  the  doors  with  a  grand  air  of  importance. 

No  perfumed  and  jewelled  lady  entered,  however;  no 
dainty  gentleman  with  unimpeachable  toilet,  but  a  woman 
coarsely  attired,  with  a  hollow-eyed  child  in  her  arms, 
advanced  with  shrinking  step  into  the  room,  shading  her 
eyes  with  her  rough  hand  from  the  sudden  blaze  of  light. 


196  Vernon  Grove. 

""What  does  the  woman  want?"  asked  Clayton  of 
the  astonished  waiter,  "and  how  dare  you  admit  such  a 
person  at  this  hour,  at  this  time,  into  my  house?" 

The  woman  answered  for  herself  in  a  sad  voice,  and  in 
hurried  words  told  a  pitiful  tale  of  misfortune  and 
affliction,  looking  down  anxiously  at  intervals  upon  the 
child  as  though  to  assure  herself  that  each  quick  convul- 
sive breath  that  it  drew  was  not  its  last. 

Her  husband,  she  said,  together  with  herself  and  child, 
had  taken  passage  in  a  vessel  bound  for  other  shores,  and 
while  on  their  way  a  storm  had  overtaken  them  and  their 
vessel  became  a  wreck.  Many  on  board  had  perished, 
and  among  the  rest  her  husband,  whose  dying  struggle 
she  had  witnessed  without  being  able  to  give  him  any 
assistance,  and  she  and  her  child  might  have  shared  his 
fate  if  another  vessel,  in  passing  at  some  distance,  had 
not  seen  their  signal  of  distress  and  rendered  assistance 
to  the  few  miserable  survivors  who  were  clinging  to  the 
wreck,  their  strength  almost  spent  by  their  exertions. 
Her  child  and  herself,  it  was  true,  were  saved  from 
drowning,  but  a  worse  fate  might  await  them  through 
poverty  and  hunger,  which  must  soon  bring  them  to  the 
grave,  for  upon  landing,  the  captain  of  the  ship  which 
had  rescued  them,  told  her  that  she  must  seek  at  once 
for  employment,  as  he  could  no  longer  afford  to  add  to 
his  expenses  by  maintaining  those  whom  he  had  saved ; 
and  so  without  food  or  clothing,  with  a  sick  child  and  a 
heavy  heart,  a  stranger  in  a  strange  land,  she  had  gone 
forth  to  seek  her  fortunes.  Seeing  bright  lights  in  .Mr. 
Clayton's  house,  she  had  stopped  there,  hoping  that  the 
noble  exterior  might  betoken  wealth,  and  plenty,  and 
benevolence — she  but  asked  a  shelter  for  the  night,  or 


Vernon  Grove.  197 

the  wherewithal  to  obtain  one  elsewhere,  a  shawl  to  wrap 
her  shivering  child  in,  and  a  word  of  advice  from  the  kind 
gentleman  and  lady  of  the  house,  she  added. 

Piteously  were  her  eyes  turned  upon  the  group,  who 
were  interested  in  spite  of  themselves  in  the  narrative, 
but  another  peal  of  the  bell  at  last  determined  Clay- 
ton's plan  of  action. 

"  My  advice  is,"  said  he  frowningly,  "  that  you  de- 
part from  these  doors  at  once.  The  city  provides  a 
refuge  for  such  as  you,  and  if  you  choose,  you  can  go  to 
the  authorities  and  there  palm  upon  them  your  impro- 
bable story ;  these  rooms  were  lighted  for  guests  and 
not  for  importunate  beggars;  depart  at  once,  and  let 
them  have  entrance." 

"So  much  to  me,"  thought  Sybil,  glancing  at  her 
costly  pearls,  "so  much  to  pleasure  and  pomp,  and 
nothing  to  her  /"  She  could  have  torn  the  rich  orna- 
ments from  her  arms  and  neck  if  she  had  dared,  and 
trampled  them  under  foot,  while  Isabel  seeing  her  emo- 
tion, hummed  a  lively  air  and  tried  to  draw  her  away, 
saying  that  Clayton  had  done  what  was  but  right,  as  he 
was  constantly  assailed  by  impostors  who  tried,  under 
false  pretences,  to  extract  money  from  him.  But  Sybil 
stood  rooted  to  the  spot.  The  woman's  pale  face  flushed 
at  Clayton's  cruel  words,  and  she  looked  straight  into 
his  eyes  as  if  to  be  assured  of  his  meaning,  then  shud- 
dering perhaps  from  cold,  perhaps  from  some  uncontrol- 
lable impulse  of  despair  or  weariness,  she  drew  the 
moaning  child  more  closely  to  her  shrunken  breast  and 
walked  slowly  from  the  room,  while  her  miserable  robes 
brushed  the  silken  garments  of  the  gay  party  who 
ascended  the  stairs. 


ig8  Vernon  Grove. 

Sybil  would  have  followed  her  and  have  rendered  her 
the  aid  which  Clayton  had  denied,  for  she  felt  and  knew 
that  the  strange  sad  tale  was  true,  but  Isabel  held  her 
back,  and  in  a  passive  dream-like  mood,  she  heard  her 
name  in  an  introduction,  and  then  came  fresh  arrivals, 
and  the  incident  was  for  that  night  forgotten,  but  ever 
after  Sybil's  conscience  reproached  her  for  not  being 
more  prompt  and  acting  with  more  independence ;  nor 
did  she  plead  as  others  might  for  her,  her  inexperience 
and  the  peculiar  circumstances  under  which  she  was 
placed.  Often  did  she  think  of  Clayton's  avarice,  which 
led  him,  though  spending  thousands  for  his  own  plea- 
sures, to  refuse  needful  aid  to  that  wretched  beggar,  and 
of  Isabel's  apathy  as  she  besought  a  shelter ;  and  as  the 
besetting  sin  of  their  characters  unfolded  itself  to  her, 
she  felt  that  at  God's  bar  of  justice  she  would  rather  have 
the  heart  of  that  poor  woman  beating  beneath  its  scanty 
rags,  than  those  of  the  proud  owners  of  that  costly 
palace  home. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

"  Never  'till  now— never  'till  now,  0  Queen 

And  wonder  of  the  enchanted  world  of  sound, 
Never  'till  now  was  such  bright  creature  seen, 
Startling  to  transport  all  the  region  round ! 
Whence  com'st  thou— with  those  eyes  and  that  fine  mien, 

Thou  sweet,  sweet  singer  ?     Like  an  angel  found 
Mourning  alone,  thou  seem'st,  thy  mates  all  fled, 
A  star  'mong  clouds — a  spirit  'midst  the  dead." 

BARRY  CORNWALL. 

ISABEL  had  not  miscalculated ;  Sybil's  praises  were  upon 
every  tongue ;  her  grace,  her  peculiar  style  of  beauty, 
her  dignity,  and  the  inborn  refinement  which  showed 
itself  in  every  movement  were  commented  upon,  and  had 
Isabel  staked  her  success  or  failure  in  society  upon  the 
issue  of  that  evening's  impression,  she  must  have  been 
completely  satisfied.  Sybil  herself  was  quite  unconscious 
of  the  position  which  she  had  attained  ;  she  simply  felt 
intense  enjoyment  in  the  fine  music  and  the  companion- 
ship of  beautiful  women  and  intellectual  men,  and 
dreamed  not  that  she  had  gained  in  a  few  hours  a  sum- 
mit which  had  been  often  toiled  for  in  vain  by  the 
society  seeker  and  fashionist. 

Isabel,  who  watched  her  young  charge  with  Argus- 
eyes,  soon  perceived  that  there  was  one  among  the 
crowd  who,  spell-bound  by  Sybil's  loveliness,  seemed 
unable  or  unwilling  to  resist  her  fascinations,  engaging 


2oo  Vernon  Grove. 

Tier  in  conversation  whenever  he  could,  or  when  not  con- 
versing with  her,  standing  apart  and  gazing  upon  her 
every  movement.  With  the  quick  intuition  of  a  woman 
of  the  world,  she,  in  her  own  mind,  wove  Sybil's  destiny, 
and  linked  it  with  his  who  was  so  evidently  interested 
in  her  protege,  quite  satisfied  with  him  as  one  whom 
even  Vernon  himself  must  welcome  as  every  way  worthy 
of  his  beloved  charge. 

Arthur  Leslie,  the  person  in  question,  was  a  man  of  a 
calm,  steady  temperament,  far-seeing  and  cautiously 
judging;  seldom  impressed  by  externals,  and  almost 
cold  in  manner.  EschewTing  all  the  vices  of  society,  he 
nevertheless  entered  largely  into  its  pleasures,  and  was 
a  favorite  with  both  sexes,  as  much  for  his  independence 
of  character  as  for  his  uniform  good  nature.  A  disposi- 
tion so  well  balanced  is  seldom  to  be  met  with,  and  Les- 
lie, but  little  past  that  period  when  the  law  determines 
a  man  to  be  of  age,  had  the  judgment  of  riper  years,  and 
men  much  older  than  himself  looked  up  to  him  for  advice. 
He  had  passed  unscathed,  heart  free,  through  two  sea- 
sons in  society,  and  as  much  for  his  weight  of  character 
as  for  his  wealth,  was  still  the  anxious  solicitude  of 
manoeuvring  mothers  who  almost  despaired  of  the  attrac- 
tions of  their  daughters. 

When  such  a  man  loves,  he  loves  with  his  whole  soul, 
and  if  there  is  such  a  thing,  if  the  whole  loving  power 
springs  into  being  in  one  instant,  as  a  flower  bursts  into 
bloom  in  a  single  night — if  in  an  instant  one's  happiness 
or  misery  is  decided  by  the  smile  or  frown  of  another, 
then  Leslie  loved  Sybil  Gray.  Her  look  of  purity  first 
attracted  him,  then  her  face  at  rest  enchained  him  as 
being  that  of  an  angel,  but  when  she  smiled,  all  that  was 


Vernon  Grove.  201 

beautiful  of  earth  seemed  to  glow  in  the  mirth  which 
shone  in  her  eyes  or  in  the  curved  arch  of  her  coral  lips. 
He  first  thought  how  it  would  brighten  life  with  such  a 
ministering  spirit  hovering  near  to  warn  him  of  evils  and 
temptations,  and  then  the  vague  thought  took  the  more 
definite  form  of  a  wish,  carrying  him  back  to  his  lonely 
home,  where,  instead  of  the  solitude,  he  longed  to 
have  her  seated  as  his  own  household  treasure ;  or 
meeting  him  with  her  welcoming  smile.  But  Leslie  was 
not  a  man  to  be  beguiled  by  a  fair  face  or  form,  and  he 
was  determined  before  he  yielded  to  the  bewildering 
emotions  of  happiness,  Avhich  were  already  giving  to  his 
life  a  joy  unknown  to  him  before,  to  find  out  what  the 
casket,  which  was  so  attractive  without,  contained  within, 
and  when,  after  seeking  an  introduction,  he  found  Sybil's 
mind  bright  and  cultivated,  he  gave  himself  up  to  the 
new-born  feeling  as  though  to  one  hope,  thought,  aim  in 
life,  and  rested  under  the  charmed  spell  with  an  aban- 
donment which  he  dared  not  and  cared  not  to  resist. 
He  felt,  too,  after  conversing  with  Sybil,  that  she  under- 
stood him ;  that  his  passionate  longing  for  sympathy  was 
all  revealed  to  her ;  that  she  admired  the  books  which 
he  admired,  and  even  the  same  passages  of  poetry  had 
fascinated  them  both.  Then  they  had  trodden  over  the 
same  ground  in  science,  except  that  where  she  had  only 
ventured  to  skim  the  surface,  he  had  plunged  boldly,  and 
her  weaker  nature  seemed  to  lean  in  confidence  upon 
his  stronger  judgment  and  more  extended  experience. 

Theirs  was  no  fleeting,  ball-room   conversation,  but 

an  earnest  finding  of  each  other  out,  a  continual  glad 

surprise  to  discover  that  their  tastes  and  pursuits  were 

so  much  in  accordance,  and  Leslie  would  have  moiiopo- 

9* 


2O2  Vernon  Grove. 

lizcd  her  for  the  entire  evening,  if  Isabel  had  not  had 
other  views  for  the  young  novice.  She  wished  Sybil  to 
feel  her  own  power,  to  taste  the  intoxication  of  general 
admiration,  to  be  the  queen  of  the  many  as  well  as  of 
the  single  worshipper  who  had  fallen  almost  without  a 
struggle  a  captive  to  her  charms ;  she  wished  her  to  be 
so  impressed  with  the  pleasures  of  society  as  to  desire  to 
forsake  the  country  and  its  tamer  attractions  for  ever. 
Watching,  therefore,  for  a  favorable  opportunity,  she 
sent  Leslie  away  upon  some  trivial  errand,  and,  as  if  in 
contrast  to  her  late  companion,  introduced  to  Sybil  an 
old  and  valued  friend  of  hers,  a  venerable  minister  who 
occasionally  came  from  the  solitude  of  his  studio  to  lend 
countenance  to  what  lie  thought  were  the  harmless 
amusements  of  the  gay  outer  world. 

As  Sybil  looked  up  with  a  smile  of  greeting  to  the 
benevolent  face  before  her,  she  thought  that  in  his  very 
air  there  seemed  to  be  benediction,  a  sort  of  "bless 
you,  my  child !"  which  words  were  indeed  in  the  old 
man's  heart,  although  unspoken,  and  by  an  involuntary 
impulse  she  extended  her  hand  which  he  clasped  in  his 
with  fatherly  kindness.  Then  when  Isabel  left  them,  he 
drew  from  her  a  recital  of  the  principal  events  of  her 
almost  uneventful  life,  and  promised  to  be  a  friend  to 
her  upon  the  perilous  path  into  which  she  had  entered, 
and  while  she  thanked  him  with  eloquent  words  and 
moistened  eyes  for  his  kindness,  he  gazed  wondcringly 
upon  her  glorious  beauty,  and  remembering  what  a 
dangerous  gift  it  was,  he  warned  her  of  the  poison  in  the 
cup,  and  told  her  to  beware  while  she  was  drinking  the 
intoxicating  draught,  not  to  drain  it  to  the  very  drcus. 

Sybil  was  so  pleased  with  her  new  companion,  his 


Vernon  Grove.  203 

interest  in  her  simple  country  life,  her  rural  church,  and 
her  schemes  for  her  poor  dependants,  whom,  by  Ver- 
non's  generosity,  she  was  enabled  to  relieve,  that  she 
gladly  accepted  his  invitation  to  walk  into  the  grounds 
where  the  music  would  not  be  a  drawback  to  their  con- 
versation, and  which  a  genial  day  of  lingering  summer 
had  made  pleasant  even  in  the  early  autumn.  There 
they  found  numerous  guests  who  preferred  the  quiet 
pervading  the  moonlit  gardens  to  the  more  enlivening 
dances  of  the  ball  room. 

The  grounds  were  laid  out  under  Isabel's  and  Clay- 
ton's direct  supervision,  and  the  result-  was  a  combina- 
tion of  beauty  and  order  which  always  accompanied  the 
exercise  of  their  united  taste.  There  was  no  lack  of 
ornamental  shrubbery,  and  fountains,  and  figures  of  clas- 
sical meaning,  where  the  mythology  of  the  ancients  was 
woven  into  a  thousand  exquisite  creations  by  the  hands 
of  modern  artists.  Now  a  marble  Cupid  would  be  seen 
lurking  almost  hidden  among  the  foliage  with  bow 
strung  and  arrow  ready  for  flight  in  his  chiselled  hand, 
or  an  Aurora  would  meet  the  gaze,  the  very  embodi- 
ment of  beauty  and  the  type  of  the  light  and  loveliness 
of  day. 

Sybil's  new  friend  was  well  acquainted  with  the  mystic 
meaning  of  each  symbol,  and  it  was  no  slight  enjoyment 
to  her  to  have  him  reveal  them  to  her,  or  to  find  him. 
drawing  from  her  own  book  knowledge  the  explanation 
which  he  desired  to  convey  to  her.  The  thousand  fan- 
cies which  she  had  formed  of  the  wild  and  exquisite 
creations  of  pagan  idolatry  now  assumed  a  definite  shape, 
and  her  delight  was  almost  child-like  when  she  discovered 
without  any  prompting  from  her  companion,  from  some 


204  Vernon  Grove. 

symbol  which  was  attached  to  the  numerous  sculptured 
forms  around  her,  the  name  and  office  of  the  carved 
images ;  thus  a  light  and  airy  figure  in  a  little  grove  of 
trees,  holding  in  her  hand  a  vase  of  exquisite  workman- 
ship, drew  from  her  the  exclamation,  "  Ah,  that  must  be 
the  Hebe  of  the  Greeks!"  and  she  knew  at  once  by  her 
quiver  and  arrows  and  the  crescent  on  her  brow,  that 
Diana  stood  before  her  in  the  radiant  moonlight. 

It  was  appropriate  and  unique  too,  both  her  compa- 
nion and  herself  thought,  to  find  Bacchus  reclining  at  his 
ease  among  the  arbor  of  grape  vines  which  hung  around 
him,  and  Pomona  guarding  the  province  where  the 
orchard  began. 

All  this  was  intense  enjoyment  to  her,  resembling 
somewhat  the  fresh  feeling  of  pleasure  which  one  has  on 
an  island  coast  in  gathering  valuable  shells  of  varied 
forms  and  colors,  and  as  great  was  her  delight  when  her 
companion  explained  to  her  the  more  obscure  meaning  of 
the  figures,  for  Vernon's  aim  in  Sybil's  education  had 
been  for  her  to  take  pleasure  in  constant  acquirement, 
rather  than  in  display  of  what  she  knew.  Thus  she  felt 
that  she  had  gained  something  when  he  pointed  out  to 
her  a  marble  Silence,  with  its  symbol  rose,  a  chained 
Prometheus,  or  a  Galataa  standing  in  her  chariot  shell. 

But  the  crowning  beauty  of  the  garden  was  a  kind  of 
Grecian  temple  which  31r.  Clayton  had  erected  for  a 
summer  resort,  and  to  this  Sybil's  new  friend  now  led 
her,  as  much  for  the  view  which  was  to  be  obtained  from 
it,  as  to  see  its  exquisite  proportions.  It  belonged  to  no 
peculiar  style  of  architecture,  though  claiming  something 
of  the  simplicity  of  the  Ionic  order,  together  with  the 
inverted  bells  and  acanthus  leaves  of  the  more  ornamen- 


Vernon  Grove.  205 

tal  Corintliian  type.  A  flight  of  marble  steps  led  up  to 
a  mosaic  floor,  white  fluted  pillars  sustained  a  dome  of 
white  marble,  so  light  and  graceful,  that  Sybil,  deceived 
in  the  softened  moonlight,  thought  that  it  was  transpa- 
rent, and  traced  with  her  eye  the  delicate  veins  which 
crossed  and  recrossed  each  other  over  its  polished  sur- 
face. Pausing  on  the  last  step  as  she  ascended,  she  dis- 
engaged her  arm  from  her  companion's,  and  paused  to 
view  the  scene  beneath  her  so  exquisite,  so  like  a  sudden 
vision  of  fairy  land. 

It  was  more  like  a  dream  to  her  than  a  reality  as  she 
stood  there  gazing  upon  the  gleaming  statues,  cold  and 
motionless  amid  the  living  groups  around ;  the  full  calm 
moon  unveiled  to  the  burning  glances  of  some  worshipping 
Endymion,  and  her  own  mysterious  self  suddenly  trans- 
ferred from  the  companionship  of  Nature  only,  to  that 
of  a  world  of  highest  Art.  Then  her  glance  rested  upon 
the  silvery  hair  and  noble  brow  of  him  who  had  guided 
her  through  that  labyrinth  of  beauty,  and  whose  eyes 
were  directed  upward  as  though  he  were  communing 
with  the  inner  heaven,  and  she  thought  how  the  soul 
there  on  that  uplifted  and  expressive  face  made  it  more 
glorious  than  aught  else ;  and  from  him  her  thoughts 
wandered  to  Linwood,  and  she  wondered  if  he  ever  por- 
trayed what  was  noble  and  beautiful  in  man  as  well  as  in 
woman,  in  his  pictures,  and  if  he  did,  how  that  rapt, 
almost  God-like  countenance  would  make  for  him  a  grand 
study.  And  from  Linwood  her  thoughts  winged  them- 
selves far  away  from  Italy,  across  the  ocean,  beyond  the 
tree  tops,  through  the  murmuring  woods,  past  the  shin- 
ing river,  over  the  tree-crowned  hill,  to  Vernon  and  her 
country  home. 


206  Vernon  Grove. 

"And  would  you  return  to  it  and  him?"  said  the 
voice  of  her  conscience;  "would  you  leave  this  fairy 
land  of  enjoyment  for  one  moment  there  ?" 

And  she  answered  almost  audibly  to  the  questioning 
voice,  with  a  heart  all  unspoiled  by  the  fascinations 
which  surrounded  her — 

"  I  would  leave  it  all  for  one  moment  there." 

"Sybil,"  said  Isabel,  suddenly  springing  up  the  steps 
and  interrupting  most  effectually  her  reverie,  "this  is 
just  where  I  wished  to  find  you,  for  this,  you  must  know 
is  my  cage,  and  you  are  the  bird  whom  I  would  most 
like  to  hear  sing  in  it.  I  did  not  bring  you  into  the  gar- 
den before,  because  I  desired  the  full  beauty  of  the 
scene  to  break  upon  you  to-night,  and  you  must  be 
satisfied,  for  earth,  air,  and  sky,  smile  upon  us  and  lay 
their  tributes  at  your  feet.  Every  life,  dear  Sybil,  has 
some  stand-points  in  memory,  some  bright  or  gloomy 
points  to  date  from,  and  if  you  forget  all  other  nights  in 
your  life,  you  must  promise  me  to  remember  this." 

Isabel's  words  were  strangely  earnest,  but  she  meant 
nothing  beyond  the  mere  impression  which  the  hour  pro- 
duced upon  Sybil's  mind  ;  but  often  after  did  the  latter 
recur  to  them  as  prophetic,  for  truly  above  all  the  nights 
or  days  in  her  life,  had  Sybil  cause  to  remember  that 
eventful  night,  the  stand-point  in  her  memory,  looming 
up  above  other  points  of  time. 

"There  are  not  many  listeners,"  continued  Isabel, 
"  and  here  just  where  you  stand,  just  how  you  stand, 
against  that  marble  pillar,  I  must  hear  you  sing." 

Leslie  now  joined  them,  and  added  his  entreaties  to 
those  of  Isabel,  and  the  old  companion  of  her  walk, 
although  silent,  looked  expectantly  at  her,  as  though  to 


Vernon  Grove.  207 

grant  their  request  would  delight  him  too.  Sybil  re- 
plied to  his  glance  with  a  kind  look  of  interest ;  she 
longed  to  do  something  in  return  for  what  she  thought 
was  his  kindness,  in  teaching  her  so  much  which  was 
new  and  interesting,  and  to  repay  him  for  his  good 
nature  in  taking  the  trouble  to  amuse  one  so  far  his 
inferior  in  age  and  attainments. 

"And  would  you  like  to  hear  me  sing  too  ?"  she  ask- 
ed, "would  not  music  such  as  I  could  give  you  only 
break  the  charmed  spell  which  is  around  us?  If  you 
think  not,  tell  me  what  kind  you  most  admire,  or  if  you 
like  music  at  all  ?" 

"  To  be  candid,"  he  replied,  "  I  fear  that  I  must  say 
that  I  do  not,  for  the  intricate  melody  of  the  present 
day  bewilders  me,  and  I  do  not  profess  to  understand  or 
appreciate  it.  In  my  youth  there  were  some  songs  that 
went  deeper  than  the  mere  organs  of  hearing,  sinking 
into  the  very  soul,  but  they  have  passed  out  of  vogue, 
and  you  would  laugh  at  me  were  I  even  to  name 
them." 

"  You  are  mistaken,"  said  Sybil  with  emotion,  while 
a  sweet  smile  of  sympathy  broke  upon  her  lips  and  rip- 
pled up  to  her  eyes,  "  and  to  prove  that  I  love  those  al- 
most by-gone  melodies  with  their  tender  pathos  as  much 
as  you  do,  I  will  sing  one  fbr  you,  which  I  am  sure  will 
seem  to  you  like  an  old  friend." 

Then  before  an  objection  could  be  raised  by  the  frown- 
ing Isabel,  her  voice  rose  upon  the  air  like  a  part  of  the 
exquisite  night  as  the  stars  were  of  the  sky,  thrilling  all 
hearts  Avith  delicious  cadence  in  one  of  those  old-fashioned 
songs, those  ballads  of  eld,  which  seem  made  for  any  time 
and  place,  and  each  sound  was  hushed  under  the  blue 


208  Vernon  Grove. 

dome  of  the  heavens  save  the  tinkling  of  the  murmuring 
fountains  and  the  voice  rising  in  melody  over  all. 

It  was  a  song  which  brought  back  the  old  man's  youth 
when  life  and  hope  were  fresh,  and  the  memory  of  a 
beloved  voice  which  had  sung  it  in  those  happy  days, — 
and  he  bent  his  head,  calling  back  the  by-gone  hours, 
while  he  silently  wiped  away  the  tears  that  flowed  un- 
bidden from  his  eyes.  As  the  last  thrilling  words  were 
uttered,  he  pressed  Sybil's  hand  and  uttered  a  fervent 
"  God  bless  you,  dear  child ; "  then  quietly  passing 
through  the  crowd  who  stood  breathlessly  waiting  for 
another  utterance  in  song  from  that  marvellous  voice, 
he  bent  his  way  homeward  with  the  happy  memory  still 
stirring  in  his  heart. 

"  Now,  Sybil,"  said  Isabel  softly,  "  I  forgive  you  for 
that  breach  of  taste,  because  the  old  song  was  so  beau- 
tiful and  sad  that  my  own  careless  heart  was  touched 
and  my  eyes  moistened,  but  as  you  have  paid  your  tri- 
bute to  the  aged  part  of  your  audience,  you  must  sing 
us  one  song  brimful  of  love  and  life,  exclusively  belong- 
ing to  youth. 

A  song  for  love  and  youth  !  "What  should  it  be  ? 
Sybil  remembered  one  which  she  had  found  among  Ver- 
non's  music,  a  song  to  The  Winds.  It  was  unlike  any 
other  combination  of  sounds  that  she  had  ever  heard,  a 
wild,  weird-like  tangled  harmony,  seemingly  as  reck- 
less as  the  winds  themselves,  now  soft  as  a  murmuring 
zephyr,  and  then  mad  and  sweeping  as  a  winter  blast. 
She  felt  in  a  mood  to  sing  it,  though  she  knew  that  most 
of  her  listeners  could  but  little  appreciate  or  understand, 
unless  they  had  received  a  musical  education,  the  per- 
fect adaptation  of  the  music  to  the  words,  but  the  feel- 


Vernon  Grove.  209 

ing  could  not  be  resisted ;  some  would  understand  it 
and  to  these  she  would  address  herself,  and  again  the 
tinkling  fountains  joined  the  song  of  youth  and  love. 

"  Some  love  the  stars  that  peer  like  angel  eyes 
Through  the  blue  veil  of  curtained  paradise ; 
Some  love  the  flowers  upspringing  in  their  way, 
And  some  tho  wood-bird's  sweet  and  plaintive  lay, 
I  love  the  Winds. 

"  Not  with  a  nature  calm,  that  brooks  control, 
Love  I  the  changeful  Winds ;  but  with  the  whole 
Wild  and  impassioned  fervor  of  my  heart, 
That  of  my  inmost  being  forms  a  part, 

I  love  the  Winds. 

"  Why  do  the  Winds  for  others  bring  alarms, 
For  me  a  thousand  never-ending  charms? 
While  poets  sing  the  flowers,  the  sun,  the  trees, 
Why  do  I  sing  the  wild  ^Eolian  breeze  ? 

Why  love  the  Winds? 

"  I  love  them  for  they  come  on  pinions  strong, 
Fresh  from  thy  presence ;  morn  and  night  I  long 
That  on  their  swift  wings  I  might  fly  to  thee, 
And  round  thy  form  for  ever  lingering  be 

Where'er  thou  art." 

As  the  murmur  of  applause,  which  could  not  be  sup- 
pressed in  listening  to  the  wonderful  compass  of  her 
voice,  met  her  ear,  Sybil  drew  back  with  no  feeling  of 
self-gratulation  in  her  heart,  but  with  a  sad  weight  of 
sorrow,  for  the  song  recalled  to  her  Vernon  in  his  blind 
solitude  and  the  pains  which  he  had  taken  to  perfect  her 
in  it,  bidding  her  sometimes  sing  it  when  she  was  alone 
for  his  sake. 


2io  Vernon  Grove. 

"  There,  not  another  to-night,  clear  Mrs.  Clayton," 
she  said,  "  some  other  time,  but  not  here,  not  now." 

But  Isabel  pleaded  still — "  Only  that  Italian  air  which 
you  sung  the  first  day  of  our  arrival  at  Vernon  Grove. 
I  shall  ever  remember  Richard's  expression,"  continued 
she  unguardedly,  forgetting  her  own  resolves  to  have 
his  a  forbidden  name,  "  as  Florence  and  I  described  you 
to  him  when  you  approached  the  house  with  your  gar- 
land of  flowers ;  he  either  had  not  been  curious  before, 
or  was  afraid  to  ask  any  one  what  your  pei'sonal  appear- 
ance was,  for  fear  of  being  disenchanted  as  regarded 
some  preconceived  notion  of  his,  and  so  when  your  voice 
came  to  him,  and  he  recognised  your  identity  by  that, 
the  play  of  his  features  was  perfectly  beautiful ;  he  look- 
ed at  first  almost  sorry,  I  do  not  exactly  know  why, 
and  then  a  glad  smile  covered  his  whole  face  at  find- 
ing out,  I  suppose,  that  you  were  pleasant  to  behold  as 
wt-11  as  good  and  amiable." 

Sybil  smiled  too,  a  rare  and  beautiful  smile  it  was,  and 
to  Leslie  it  was  like  the  red  flush  of  the  western  sky 
over  some  beauteous  lake. 

"  Help  me  to  plead,  too,  Mr.  Leslie,"  said  Isabel,  turn- 
ing to  him  as  he  wras  gazing  at  Sybil,  who  was  looking 
upward  in  happy  reverie. 

"  Oh,  I  could  not,  could  not  sing  that  now,"  she  said 
earnestly,  "  it  is  too  soulless,  too  meaningless  for  such  a 
night  as  this  ;  the  words  are  mere  words  without  a  spark 
of  feeling,  and  some  gay,  sunshiny  day  I  will  remember 
your  wish  and  sing  it  to  yon ;  I  am  sure  that  Mr.  Leslie 
will  agree  with  me  now  that  he  has  heard  what  good 
reasons  I  have  for  refusing." 

Sybil  raised  her  eyes  to  his  for  an  instant,  those  eyes 


Vernon  Grove.  211 

whose  common,  every-day  expression  was  one  of  tender- 
ness, with  a  beseeching  glance,  and  from  that  moment 
he  gave  to  her  his  heart,  liis  whole  loving  heart.  Isabel's 
presence  did  not  restrain  him;  he  saw  nothing,  knew 
nothing,  felt  nothing,  but  that  Sybil  was  bending  towards 
him  awaiting  his  answer. 

"  Life  could  give  me  no  higher  happiness,"  he  said  in  a 
low  tone  of  intense  emotion,  "  than  that  of  yielding  to 
your  slightest  wish." 

Sybil  blushed  at  his  earnest  gaze  and  still  more  earnest 
words,  but  attributing  them  to  the  common  gallantry 
of  society,  was  soon  at  her  ease  conversing  upon  other 
subjects,  while  Isabel,  quite  satisfied  with  what  she  saw, 
turned  away  to  her  other  guests. 

On  the  outer  circle  of  the  crowd  which  had  surrounded 
Sybil,  and  which  was  now  beginning  to  disperse,  stood 
two  men  unknown  to  each  other,  and  who,  meeting  as 
guests  of  Mr.  Clayton's,  entered  without  an  introduction 
into  conversation. 

"  Can  you  tell  me  the  name  of  the  lady  who  has  just 
finished  singing  ?"  said  the  younger.  "  You  will  pardon 
my  question,  asked  so  informally,  but  I  have  just  entered, 
and  am  almost  a  stranger  here,  and  though  fresh  from  the 
land  of  song,  and  the  very  cradle  of  music,  where  art  is 
cultivated  to  the  utmost  to  give  a  higher  inspiration  to 
nature,  I  have  never  heard  her  voice  surpassed." 

"  I  am  as  ignorant  as  you  are,"  replied  the  other,  "  of 
the  lady's  name,  but  I  agree  with  you  in  thinking  that 
her  voice  is  an  extraordinary  one,  and  I  never  heard  notes 
which  so  'touched  my  inner  nature  through  ;'  "  then  with 
a  courteous  bow  he  passed  on  to  learn  something  more 
of  the  sweet  songstress. 


212  Vernon  Grove. 

The  younger  stranger  waited  until  the  crowd  dispersed, 
and  then  coming  in  search  of  Mr.  or  Mrs.  Clayton,  his  steps 
were  arrested  suddenly  by  a  vision  which  his  eyes  beheld. 
He  stood  for  a  moment  in  deep  thought,  then  passing  his 
hand  dreamily  over  his  eyes,  exerted  every  faculty  to 
assure  himself  that  it  was  not  a  phantasy  of  the  imagina- 
tion that  he  saw,  but  a  living  breathing  reality. 

He  was  an  artist,  and  had  just  returned  from  his  studies 
in  Europe.  While  there,  he  had  painted  a  picture,  the 
head  and  bust  of  a  female,  an  Ideal,  which  had  at  once 
placed  him  in  a  position  of  eminence  in  his  art,  and  she  who 
stood  before  him,  white  robed,  her  fair  hair  just  stirred 
by  the  night  breezes,  her  blue  eyes  upraised,  and  her  lips 
closed  though  smiling,  in  the  light  of  the  full  orbed  moon, 
was,  strangely  enough,  his  picture's  second  self.  He  could 
have  gazed  there  for  ever  until  the  living  ideal  melted  into 
air,  or  taking  wings  soared  upward  into  its  native  heaven, 
but  fearing  to  attract  attention,  and  not  yet  having  made 
his  arrival  known  to  the  mistress  of  the  house,  he  with- 
drew from  the  moonlight,  and  behind  the  shelter  of  a 
trellised  vine  still  kept  his  gaze  fixed  upon  the  marble 
temple  and  the  fair  form  which  so  filled  him  with  admi- 
ration and  wonder. 

Suddenly  he  felt  a  hand  grasp  his,  and  Isabel's  low 
well-trained  voice,  with  a  shade  of  surprise  in  its  tone, 
addressed  him. 

"  Albert  Linwood !  this  is  indeed  a  pleasure ;  I  am  glad 
to  welcome  you;  glad,  too,  that  your  appreciating  artist- 
eyes  should  have  seen  our  grounds  to-night ;  when  did 
you  return,  and  why  have  you  not  been  here  before  ?" 

Albert  returned  that  friendly  grasp  with  a  pressure  as 
sincere,  for  Isabel  Clayton's  doors  were  always  open  to 


Vernon  Grove.  213 

her  brother's  friend,  and  a  long  course  of  undeviating 
kindness  on  her  part  and  her  husband's  had  endeared 
them  both  to  him. 

"I  came  only  this  very  afternoon,"  he  said,  "and 
after  attending  to  some  necessary  business  transactions, 
hastened  to  see  my  old  friends.  There  is  no  change,  at 
least  in  one,"  he  added  smiling,  "except  that  perhaps 
the  years  have  turned  back  in  her  case ;  but  I  long  to  hear 
of  Vernon,  how  is  he,  where  is  he  ?" 

Linwood's  words  were  addressed  most  certainly  to  his 
companion,  yet  even  while  he  was  speaking  of  him  who 
was  so  dear  to  him,  and  to  whom  he  owed  so  much,  his 
eyes  wandered  to  his  living  ideal,  and  Isabel  read  his 
admiration  in  his  fascinated  gaze. 

"Vernon  is  well,  and  in  the  country  still,"  she  answered, 
"  and  ah,  I  see  that  you  are  attracted,  as  every  one  else 
is,  by  my  sweet  Euterpe  in  her  shrine.  Of  course  you 
heard  her  singing ;  and  did  you  ever  enjoy  anything 
more  than  that  contrast  of  songs,  the  one  so  sad  and 
tearful,  the  other  scientifically  brilliant  and  playful? 
One  might  have  thought  that  she  had  studied  effect  and 
looked  for  admiration  in  the  selection,  if  one  did  not 
know  the  exquisite  purity  of  her  character.  Come, 
Albert,  and  see  my  goddess  in  a  nearer  view, — let  me 
introduce  you  ;  I  would  like  to  have  you  know  more  of 
Sybil  Gray." 

"  What  a  strange  coincidence,"  said  Linwood  in  return, 
"  the  name  is  a  very  familiar  one  to  me,  'tis  the  same  as 
that  of  Vernon's  little  amanuensis ;  are  they  related  ?" 

Isabel's  merry  laugh  rang  out  bell-like  and  clear — 
"Why  should  it  be  strange?"  she  said,  "that  is  she 
herself,  Richard's  little  Sybil  Gray." 


21 4  Vernon  Grove. 

Linwood  drew  back — "I  cannot  have  the  hardihood 
to  approach  her,"  he  said ;  "  I  dare  not,  must  not,  until 
I  have  in  some  degree  restored  my  self-possession  and 
reconciled  what  she  is  with  what  I  imagined  her  to  be. 
For  years  I  have  been  corresponding  with  her,  and 
foolishly  lost  sight  of  the  fact  that  the  little  Sybil  must 
grow  into  a  woman,  the  bud  expand  into  the  flower ; 
moreover,  I  have  not  confined  my  expressions  to  the 
simple  name  by  which  Vemon  designates  her,  but  '  dear 
Sybil,'  'dearest  Sybil,'  'precious  and  beloved  child,'  have 
often  begun  and  ended  my  letters.  What  apology  can 
I  make  to  the  exquisite  woman  so  far  above  me  there,  so 
almost  angelic  in  loveliness  ?" 

Isabel  only  laughed  merrily  again,  and  linking  her  arm 
in  his,  drew  him  forward. 

"  Sybil,"  she  exclaimed,  hurrying  him  up  the  marble 
step  before  he  could  escape  from  her  gentle  force,  "here 
is  a  knight  who  has  wofully  offended  you  : — his  life  is  in 
your  hands,  but  I  recommend  him  to  your  mercy,  because 
he  has  come  humbly  to  ask  pardon  for  all  his  sins  against 
you,  past,  present,  and  to  come.  Let  his  penalty  be  as 
light  as  your  gentle  nature  can  make  it." 

Before  Sybil  could  answer  her  mysterious  address,  or 
ask  for  an  explanation,  she  beckoned  Leslie  away,  and 
passing  on  toward  the  house  with  him,  left  Sybil  and 
the  stranger  alone. 

She  raised  her  eyes  for  an  instant  to  his  facet  and  met 
a  deep  searching  gaze  of  curiosity  and  admiration ; 
something,  such  a  look,  she  thought,  as  one  might  bestow 
upon  a  picture  when  seeing  it  for  the  first  time. 

"  I  know  not  how  you  have  offended  me,"  she  began, 
dropping  her  eyes  again,  and  feeling  that  the  pause  was 


Vernon  Grove.  215 

very  awkward,  "  since  Mrs.  Clayton  has  left  us,  will  you 
please  to  explain  ?" 

"  If  to  have  thought  of  you  always  as  a  child,  as  Vernon's 
little  Sybil,  is  to  have  offended  you,"  he  said,  "then 
assuredly  I  am  guilty,  most  guilty." 

"  There  is  no  offence,"  answered  Sybil  gently,  "  in 
thinking  of  me  thus ;  nay,  it  is  rather  flattering  than 
otherwise,  inasmuch  as  we  know  that  as  we  mount  higher 
and  higher  towards  the  meridian  of  life,  we  lose  the 
freshness  and  innocence  of  childhood,  and  so  I  would  be 
ever,  if  I  could,  little  Sybil,  in  heart  at  least.  But  you 
must  explain  yourself  more  fully  still,  for  I  only  know  of 
one  other  besides  Mr.  Vernon  himself  who  could  think 
of  me  as  you  have,  and  he  is  far  away  from  us  now,  an 
artist  in  Europe." 

"  A  friend  of  yours  ?"  asked  the  stranger. 

"  Why  yes,  no ;  after  all,  yes,"  replied  Sybil ;  "  Mr. 
Vernon,  with  whom  my  grandmother  and  I  have  lived 
ever  since  my  childhood,  is  blind,  and  for  this  reason  I 
have  written  almost  all  his  letters  for  him,  those  to  Mr. 
Lin  wood  especially,  and  from  the  formality  of  a  beginning 
our  correspondence  has  continued  and  extended  into  a 
very  long  one,  and  although  I  have  never  seen  him,  I  feel 
as  if  I  had  known  him  all  of  my  life. 

"  That  is  indeed  a  novel  position,"  returned  the 
stranger,  apparently  much  interested  in  what  Sybil  had 
said,  "  and  have  you  any  curiosity  to  see  your  unknown 
correspondent  ?" 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  Sybil  joyfully,  "his  name,  daily  men- 
tioned, is  almost  a  part  of  our  life,  and  his  return  a  bright 
promise  of  the  future ;  he  may  come,  perhaps,  the  last 
of  this  very  year.  Mr.  Vernon  prizes  his  friendship  so 


216  Vernon  Grove. 

much,  and  so  entirely  depends  upon  his  sympathy  and 
judgment,  that  I  think  his  feelings  are  reflected  back 
upon  me,  and  I  look  forward  to  his  coming  as  a  sort  of 
jubilee." 

Sybil  felt  curiously  at  her  ease  with  this  stranger 
whose  name  even  she  did  not  know,  but  the  whole  of 
her  visit  had  been  so  dream-like,  so  many  experiences 
had  she  encountered  that  were  far  different  from  her 
sober  country  routine,  that  this,  she  felt,  was  after  all  but 
a  part  of  the  dream  through  which  she  was  passing. 

"  Have  you  ever  imagined  what  kind  of  character  this 
Mr.  Linwood  is  ?"  continued  her  companion — "  in  mind 
and  person,  I  mean." 

"  Of  course,"  said  Sybil,  warming  in  the  cause  of  her 
absent  correspondent  and  friend,  "  it  is  a  pleasure  to  me 
often  to  dwell  with  Mr.  Yernon  upon  that  never  wearying 
theme.  First,  I  know  that  he  is  as  gentle  almost  as  a 
woman,  because  Mr.  Vemon  has  told  me  so,  and  likewise 
I  have  heard  what  a  devoted  attendant  he  proved  when 
his  friend  was  ill ;  and  I  know,  too,  that  he  is  noble  and 
pure  minded,  and  filled  with  enthusiasm  for  his  art,  which 
he  follows  with  untiring  devotion.  He  is  a  worshipper 
of  beauty  in  every  form,  but  more  especially  the  beauty 
of  woman.  As  for  his  personal  appearance,  it  seems  to 
me  from  what  I  can  gather  from  Mr.  Vernon's  memory 
of  it,  that  it  must  be  just  wrhat  an  artist's  appearance 
should  be;  he  is  not  very  tall,  but  still  enough  so  for 
symmetry ;  then  he  has  a  high  white  forehead,  with  eyes 
like  the  Lady  Geraldine  of  Mrs.  Browning, 

1  Shining  eyes,  like  antique  jewels  set  in  Parian  statue-stone.' 
And  his  voice,  Mr.  Vernon  tells  me,  who  lays  great  stress 


Vernon  Grove.  217 

upon  the  intonations  of  a  voice,  has  a  manly  tenderness  in 
it  that  wins  one  at  once  to  like  him.  And  now  that  I  have 
been  able  to  paint  his  picture  so  faithfully  in  words,  I  am 
sure  that  I  should  know  him  if  I  were  to  meet  him 
unexpectedly." 

"  Would  you?"  said  the  stranger  in  a  tone  that  startled 
her  with  its  depth  and  earnestness,  "  would  you  know 
this  Albert  Lin  wood  of  whom  you  speak  so  flatteringly,  so 
much  above  the  estimation  in  which  he  should  be  held?" 

Again  she  raised  her  eyes  and  they  met  his,  and  a 
sudden  thought  came  to  her  which  brought  the  blood  to 
her  face  and  then  left  it  again  as  pale  as  the  marble 
against  which  she  was  leaning.  No  maidenly  shame 
caused  her  to  veil  her  eyes  now  with  down-dropped  lids ; 
there  was  a  deeper  feeling  in  her  mind  overcoming  that 
and  making  it  only  secondary.  Coldly  she  scrutinised 
him,  taking  in  his  face  and  figure  in  that  one  searching 
glance,  and  she  needed  no  other  assurance  to  tell  that 
there  before  her  stood  the  person  whom  she  had  just  so 
minutely  described.  She  wondered  why  she  had  been  so 
obtuse,  she  hated  him  and  herself  for  the  ruse  which  he 
had  practised  upon  her,  and  looking  once  more  straight 
into  his  eyes  with  a  gaze  from  which  there  was  no  escape, 
while  a  smile  of  scorn  curled  her  lip,  she  said  with  an 
indignant  gesture  which  was  a  near  approach  to  anger — 

"  You  are  Albert  Linwood !" 

"  Forgive  me,"  said  Linwood,  reading  her  indignation 
too  well,  "forgive  the  temptation  which  led  me  to  do 
what  I  now  feel  was  wrong." 

"Unfair,  unjust,"  were  the  only  words  which  she 
condescended  to  say  in  return. 

Albert  took  her  band,  but  she  drew  it  away  in  disdain 
10 


21 8  Vernon  Grove. 

and  turned  impatiently  away,  preparing  to  descend  the 
steps  in  order  to  avoid  his  further  companionship. 

"  You  are  offended,"  he  said,  making  one  more  effort 
at  a  reconciliation,  "  and  justly  so ;  but  I  cannot  bear 
your  displeasure;  forgive  me,  I  pray  you;  forgive  my 
mad  and  thoughtless  experiment." 

"  What  you  have  done,"  she  answered  unrelenting, 
"  is  unworthy  of  the  Albert  Linwood  whom  I  have  known 
so  long.  You  cannot  be,  you  are  not  he." 

"  And  so  this  is  your  promised  jubilee,  Sybil  ?"  he  said 
sorrowfully.  "  What  can  I  do  more  than  confess  that  it 
was  not  right ;  nay,  let  me  give  my  conduct  its  proper 
name,  it  was  ungentlemanly,  and  as  you  say,  unworthy 
of  the  Albert  Linwood  whom  you  have  called  your  friend, 
and  I  would  not  repeat  it  for  any  consideration  that  could 
be  offered  to  me,  no,  not  for  one  of  your  smiles,  Sybil. 
I  will  make  one  more  appeal  to  you  which  may  rend 
your  heart  of  steel,  not  pleading  in  my  own  name,  but 
in  the  name  of  another  who  deserves  your  favor  more 
than  I  do — for  Richard's,  Vernon's  sake,  will  you  not  let 
his  friend  be  yours  ?  for  his  sake  forgive  and  forget  my 
thoughtlessness." 

Her  forgiveness  was  gained  at  once — Sybil  held  out 
her  hand  and  smiled. 

"  For  Mr.  Vernon's  sake  only,"  she  said. 

And  thus  peace  was  bought,  and  as  few  could  resist 
Linwood's  fascination  of  manner  and  conversation,  before 
many  minutes  elapsed  they  were  conversing  with  the 
freedom  of  old  friends. 

"  And  so  you  could  not  prevail  upon  Vernon  to  take 
the  journey,"  said  Linwood,  after  a  reconciliation  was 
entirely  established,  "and  to  let  me  be  your  cicerone 


Vernon  Grove.  219 

among  the  fair  scenes  with  which  I  became  so 
familiar." 

"No,"  answered  Sybil,  "it  was  in  vain  that  I  read 
your  appeals  to  him;  he  shrinks  more  and  more  from 
the  bustle  of  travel  and  society,  and  besides,  my  grand- 
mother's health  is  so  precarious  that  it  would  have  been 
neither  convenient  to  taken  or  to  leave  her ;  and  moreover, 
we  were  quite  satisfied  with  our  own  land  for  the  present, 
for  beautiful  and  attractive  as  must  be  the  scenes  which 
you  have  visited,  there  are  some  things  here  which  would 
favorably  compare  with  any  in  any  other  country.  For 
instance,  what  could  surpass  or  compete  with  the  love- 
liness of  this  night  ?" 

"  It  is  indeed  a  glorious  night,"  replied  her  companion, 
"  everything  is  beautiful  that  I  look  upon  now ;  but  sotting 
aside  the  world  of  art,  and  granting  that  we  see  the  same 
moon  through  the  same  atmosphere,  and  that  the  nights 
are  equal  in  beauty,  there  is  one  thing  which  I  should  like 
you  as  an  admirer  of  Nature  to  see,  and  that  is  one  of 
Italia's  own  sunsets — then  you  might  indeed  say,  'my 
soul  has  a  memory  of  beauty  which  Avill  last  me  for  ever.' " 

"  And  yet,"  replied  Sybil,  "I  have  been  so  well  pleased 
with  our  own,  that  day  after  day,  from  a  hill  near  Vernon 
Grove,  I  never  wearied  of  gazing  upon  our  evening  skies, 
each  afternoon  presenting  something  new  in  character, 
sometimes  gorgeous  and  golden,  or  grotesque  and  wild, 
and  then  calm  and  uniform  as  a  tranquil  sea.  It  was  a 
quaint  conceit  of  mine,  belonging  rather  to  fairy  land 
than  to  the  domains  of  my  own  quiet  imagination,  that 
the  spirits  of  the  landscape  painters  of  the  past  were 
permitted  in  turn  to  try  their  skill  and  to  leave  an  impress 
of  their  peculiar  style  upon  the  heavens  on  each  succeed- 


22O  Vernon  Grove. 

ing  evening  ;  so  at  one  time  I  would  have  before  me  on 
the  great  panorama  around  me  Wilson's  sublime  life-like 
limning ;  Bui-net's  rainbow-touched  pencilling ;  Claude's 
inimitable  and  delicate  coloring,  or  Berchem's  superb 
blending  of  light  and  shadow  looming  over  magnificent 
sky-cloud  scenery ;  and  once,  Mr.  Linwood,  I  trembled, 
for  one  balmy  evening  not  long  ago,  the  whole  heavens 
were  clothed  in  a  sheet  of  glowing  sapphire,  exactly 
resembling  the  skies  in  your  picture  of  evening,  and  I 
thought  that  your  spirit  might  have  flown  upward  too, 
without  a  warning  to  your  friends,  with  nothing  but 
that  sunset  painted  by  your  invisible  hand  to  tell  them 
of  your  departure." 

And  as  thus  they  conversed,  almost  better  friends,  if 
possible,  for  their  brief  estrangement,  the  hours  fled 
swiftly  until  they  were  reminded  by  the  departure  of 
the  guests  from  the  garden  of  the  lateness  of  the  hour, 
then  conducting  Sybil  to  the  house,  he  bade  her  and  the 
Claytons  adieu,  promising  to  call  upon  them  the  next 
morning,  a  promise  which  he  was  only  too  happy  to  make 
and  fulfil. 

The  night  had  merged  almost  into  the  dawn  when 
Isabel,  who  had  prevailed  upon  Florence  to  play  a  quiet 
part  in  the  pageant  of  the  evening,  sought  her  just  before 
her  departure  to  exchange  a  few  words  with  her.  They 
were  entirely  encouraged  in  the  success  of  their  plans, 
for  to  them  Sybil  had  seemed  to  fall  an  easy  prey  into 
the  |chemes  which  they  had  laid  for  her,  and  to  enjoy 
the  homage  offered  to  her  with  such  zest,  that  they 
.considered  their  victory  already  complete.  This,  to- 
gether with  the  openly  expressed  admiration  of  Leslie, 
who  united  in  himself  all  that  Isabel  had  classed  under 


Vernon  Grove.  221 

the  head  of  a  "  good  match,"  led  her  to  throw  her  arms 
around  Florence  at  parting  and  to  call  her  in  tender 
tones  her  "  beloved  sister,"  bidding  her  to  be  of  good 
cheer,  for  such  a  fair  beginning  must  of  necessity  make  a 
favorable  ending. 

And  for  Sybil,  too,  that  night  of  enchantment  had 
passed  away,  and  she  stood  at  last  in  the  solitude  of  her 
luxurious  apartment,  with  cheeks  glowing  with  excite- 
ment and  a  throbbing  heart,  thinking  over  the  events 
of  the  past  few  hours.  She  scarcely,  however,  felt  her- 
self to  be  alone,  for  her  figure  was  reflected  from  head 
to  foot  in  the  spacious  mirror  which  hung  before  her  in 
its  gilded  frame,  not  as  that  Sybil  Gray  whose  unassuming 
costume  in  her  home  at  Vernon  Grove  had  scarcely 
given  her  a  thought,  but  as  a  Sybil  Gray  of  the  fashion- 
able world,  around  whose  bare  neck  and  arms  were 
entwined  costly  pearls,  and  whose  golden  gossamer 
ringlets  no  longer  hung  naturally  upon  her  shoulders, 
but  were  arranged  in  the  more  womanly  style  of  a 
studied  coiffure.  For  once  in  her  life  she  looked  at  her- 
self attentively  and  curiously,  and  a  deeper  flush  stole 
to  her  cheek  as  she  beheld  the  radiant  image  there. 
Suddenly  she  awoke  to  a  knowledge  of  her  power,  a 
dangerous  knowledge,  and  one  upon  which  the  nice 
moral  balance  of  character  has  often  been  wrecked.  It 
was  no  simple  trial  which  came  to  her  then;  herself 
bc'cnine  the  tempter,  that  fair  strange  image  which 
smiled  as  she  smiled,  and  toyed  with  the  circling  bracelet 
upon  her  arm.  She  had  a  right  to  be  proud,  it  said,  if 
she  would  but  remember  the  homage  that  she  had' 
received ;  it  bade  her  recall  the  minutest  circumstance 
in  that  evening  of  triumphs ;  Leslie's  words,  so  dele- 


222     .  Vernon  Grove. 

rential  and  tender;  Linwood's  look  of  admiration;  the 
rapt  attention  with  which  all  had  listened  to  her  songs ; 
those  numberless  introductions,  and  last  but  not  least, 
Isabel's  words  at  parting — "  good-night,  my  flower  of 
the  forest — I  am  proud  to  have  you  transplanted  here." 
"  What  was  that  monotonous  country  life,  where  each 
day  was  like  another,  in  comparison  with  that  varied, 
fascinating,  joyous  existence  for  which  she  seemed  espe- 
cially made  ?"  asked  the  mirrored  image. 

Not  causelessly  had  Vernon  trembled  as  he  gave  her 
his  parting  blessing;  the  world's  breath  was  welcome 
already,  nor  did  she  turn  away  at  once  from  its  perfumed 
incense. 

"What  shall  arrest  these  bewildering  wandering 
thoughts,"  said  another  voice  which  she  knew  was  the 
clarion  voice  of  conscience ;  "  what  shall  take  thee  un- 
spoiled back  to  Vernon  Grove,  ere  selfishness,  pride,  and 
folly  enter  and  obtain  possession  of  thy  heart  ?  Be  true 
to  thy  better  nature  and  seek  a  safeguard." 

Sybil  made  her  choice,  wavering  but  for  an  instant. 
Quickly  unclapsing  her  pearls  and  divesting  herself  of 
her  gauzy  drapery,  folding  her  luxuriant  hair  in  less 
artistic  bands  around  her  head,  she  extinguished  the 
blaze  of  light  which  had  revealed  to  her  that  tempting- 
picture,  and  kneeling  down  penitently  ere  she  slept,  she 
sought  and  found  that  safeguard  which  she  needed ; — it 
was  prayer. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

"In  the  song-voice,  in  the  speech- voice, 

There  is  but  one  far  off  tone ; 
In  the  silence  of  my  bosom, 

But  one  burning  throb  alone — 
But  one  form  of  shade  or  brightness 

In  the  mazes  of  my  sleep, 
One  pearl  of  snowy  whiteness 

In  my  memory's  heaving  deep ! 

How  I  glory,  how  I  sorrow, 

How  I  love  with  deathless  love — 
How  I  weep  before  the  chilling  skies, 

And  moan  to  God  above  1 
I  am  higher,  I  am  prouder, 

Than  if  stars  were  round  my  head ; 
I  am  drooping,  I  am  lonely, 

As  a  mourner  o'er  the  deadl" 

ALBERT  LINWOOD  did  not  confine  his  visits  to  Mr. 
Clayton's  house  merely  to  the  day  after  his  return  to 
his  native  land,  but  was  a  constant  guest  there ;  a  wel- 
come one,  too,  was  he,  and  besides  being  an  acquisition 
to  the  pleasant  circle  gathered  there,  Sybil  was  learning 
to  look  for  his  coming  with  pleasure  and  to  call  that  a 
disappointment  which  kept  him  away.  He  was  so  genial, 
even-tempered,  and  frank,  his  conversation  was  such  a 
fund  of  information  and  amusement ;  he  was  moreover 
so  handsome  and  refined,  that  when  his  bright  face  looked 


224  Vernon  Grove. 

in  at  the  door  it  was  always  greeted  with  smiles.  And 
besides  these  considerations  there  was  really  a  great  deal 
to  be  talked  about  by  Sybil  and  himself, — subjects  that 
had  only  been  touched  upon  in  their  letters;  Vernon, 
her  grandmother,  the  Grove,  and  paintings  and  works 
of  art  innumerable,  so  that  Sybil,  from  looking  forward 
to  his  presence  simply  with  pleasant  anticipations,  in- 
sensibly came  to  regard  it  in  the  light  of  a  necessity  and 
right,  and  Linwood's  place  by  her  side  was  always 
reserved  as  a  matter  of  course. 

Leslie's  visits  were  almost  daily  also,  and  Florence  and 
Isabel  soon  began  to  perceive,  that  although  Sybil  did 
not  receive  him  with  the  warmth  that  she  showed  to 
Albert,  her  manner  was  not  sufficiently  forbidding  to 
discourage  him,  and  they  felt  that  his  devotion,  his 
manly  bearing,  and  his  wealth  must  eventually  impress 
her  favorably  and  wake  in  her  heart  the  slumbering 
passion  of  love.  They  were  convinced,  too,  from  her 
perfect  unconsciousness,  that  this  must  be  the  work  of 
time,  and  Sybil  received  him  as  she  would  any  other 
visitor  approved  of  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Clayton,  until  an 
hour  arrived  which  awoke  her  from  her  dream  of  igno- 
rance and  fully  enlightened  her  as  to  Leslie's  real  senti- 
ments. 

Linwood  came  one  morning,  quite  excited  about  a 
picture  upon  exhibition,  to  invite  the  Claytons  and  their 
guest  to  visit  it.  It  was  but  just  completed  by  a  young 
artist  of  great  promise,  who  was  a  friend  of  his,  and  as 
Leslie  was  present  he  included  him  also  in  the  invitation. 
The  picture  was  hung  in  a  hall  which  contained  several 
other  fine  paintings,  all  objects  of  interest,  to  Sybil 
especially,  who,  in  consequence  of  occasional  lessons 


Vernon  Grove.  225 

from  Albert,  was  now  beginning  to  detect  a  copy  from 
an  original,  and  readily  to  discover  different  schools  of 
art.  kSlie  named  with  unerring  judgment,  from  some 
peculiarity  of  coloring  or  execution,  painters  of  different 
styles ;  and  Albert  was  never  weary  in  instructing  her 
upon  these  points  or  letting  her  into  the  secrets  of  the 
profession  which  was  to  him  the  one  absorbing  aim  of 
his  existence.  But  the  chief  present  attraction  in  the 
hall  lay  in  the  picture  which  he  had  brought  them  to 
see,  and  which  was  entitled,  A  Happy  Home. 

The  lights  and  shadows  in  the  painting  were  quite 
remarkable,  and  the  grouping  life-like  and  distinct,  tell- 
ing its  own  story,  as  being  just  what  it  was  intended  to 
represent.  The  skies  and  scenery  were  purely  Italian, 
portraying  that  out-of-door  existence  which  is  lived 
beneath  Italy's  genial  skies.  Before  a  cottage  door  sat 
a  woman  with  that  rich  voluptuous  charm  of  beauty, 
which  is  to  be  met  with  in  no  other  clime,  and  upon  her 
figure  the  eye  rested  as  the  prominent  one  in  the  group. 
But  not  long  was  admiration  of  her  in  the  ascendant, 
for  there  were  other  details  to  claim  the  attention.  There 
was  none  of  the  bustle  of  active  English  life  in  the  pic- 
ture, but  a  dreamy  indolence  which  breathed  only  of 
rest,  tranquillity,  and  freedom  from  thought  of  what  the 
morrow  might  bring  forth.  The  hour  was  sunset,  and 
at  the  feet  of  the  woman  reclined  a  stalwart  man  in  his 
peasant's  dress,  who  appeared  to  have  thrown  aside  some 
implement  of  toil;  and  the  half-satisfied,  half- weary  look 
of  the  husband  was  in  excellent  keeping  with  the  other 
points  in  the  picture.  But  the  woman  with  her  superb 
dark  eyes,  and  the  man  in  his  luxurious  attitude  of  rest, 
were  not  wholly  engrossed  with  each  other,  for  the 
10* 


226  Vernon  Grove. 

glance  of  both  was  directed  to  the  figure  of  a  child  in 
the  distance,  crowned  with  flowers,  and  hastening  onward 
to  her  cottage  home.  The  gaze  of  expectancy  in  the 
child's  face  was  finely  contrasted  with  the  mother's  look 
of  pride  and  the  father's  aspect  of  quiet  happiness,  and 
the  calm  which  breathed  from  the  whole  scene,  together 
with  the  rich  glowing  coloring  of  the  whole  were  un- 
mistakably full  of  merit,  and  bespoke  for  the  young 
artist  a  certainty  of  future  fame. 

Each  one  of  the  party,  who  was  indebted  to  Linwood 
for  a  sight  of  the  painting,  admired  it  for  its  different 
points  of  interest,  now  for  its  gorgeous  colors,  now  the 
loveliness  of  the  woman,  or  the  manly  beauty  of  the 
father,  while  Isabel  was  particularly  attracted  by  the 
unstudied  grace  of  the  child  of  southern  skies.  Leslie, 
on  the  other  hand,  simply  looked  to  the  whole  effect, 
and  in  his  own  matter-of-fact  truthful  way,  admired  it 
for  what  it  really  was,  the  embodied  idea  of  an  artist's 
dream  of  a  happy  home. 

Isabel  and  Albert  at  last  wandered  off  to  the  other 
pictures  in  the  room,  while  Sybil  and  Leslie,  satisfied 
with  the  one  before  them,  remained  still  examining  its 
beauties,  which  increased  apparently  the  longer  they 
inspected  it  and  from  whatever  point  of  view. 

Assured  that  they  were  alone,  Leslie  ventured  upon  a 
topic  which  he  felt  that  his  happiness  imperatively  de- 
manded should  be  broached,  and  interrupting  a  passing 
criticism  which  Sybil  was  making,  he  asked  her  what  her 
ideal  of  a  happy  home  was,  "  I  mean,"  he  said,  "  if 
you  had  the  power,  how  you  would  depict  it  on  canvas.-;, 
how  embody  it  so  that  others  might  see  it  and  compare 
it  with  their  own  ?" 


Vernon  Grove.  227 

"  I  scarely  know,"  replied  Sybil,  "  I  have  never 
thought ;  but  it  seems  to  me  that  it  would  be  hard  to 
put  on  canvass  just  what  I  conceive  to  be  happiness.  It 
lies  not  so  much  in  scenic  representation  as  in  expression ; 
not  so  much  in  expression  as  in  something  which  is 
internal  and  cannot  be  portrayed.  To  give  happiness 
and  to  be  happy  is  nothing  tangible,  but  is  simply  a 
power  emanating  from  one  to  do  and  be  what  would 
please  others,  although  from  the  fact  of  one  so  acting  an 
expression  of  divine  beauty  must  emanate,  and  if  I  had 
the  genius  I  might  paint  such  a  face,  and  every  one 
would  know  exactly  what  to  call  it." 

"  Your  answer  is  a  vague  one,  I  think,"  answered 
Leslie,  "  though  I  understand  you ;  were  you  to  ask  me, 
I  think  that  I  could  define  my  idea  much  more  clearly 
than  you  have  done  yours.  I  could  embody  my 
dearest  and  best  wish  in  a  picture  which  would  be  to 
me  even  more  attractive  than  the  ideal  of  Mr.  Linwood's 
friend." 

"  I  would  like  to  hear  you  describe  it,"  said  Sybil  inno- 
cently, turning  upon  him  the  full  light  of  her  eyes,  while 
she  met  a  glance  which  brought  a  radiant  blush  to  her 
face.  The  blush  brought  a  confession  which  had  been 
trembling  for  days  upon  his  lips. 

"  A  happy  home,"  he  said  with  a  tremor  in  his  voice, 
"  I  have  never  thought  about  until  lately ;  I  have  never 
even  cared  for  enjoyment  beyond  the  present  hour,  and 
have  been  content  to  play  my  part  in  society,  to  admire 
beauty,  to  appreciate  wit,  and  to  return  to  my  books 
and  home  avocations  often  with  a  feeling  of  relief — but 
now,  lately,  there  is  a  new  thought  in  my  heart  under- 
lying every  other  thought,  and  pervading  my  whole 


228  Vernon  Grove. 

being.  The  realization  of  it  as  I  desire  will  make  my 
life  one  long  season  of  intense  and  satisfying  joy ;  to  be 
disappointed  in  it  must  make  my  utter  misery.  You 
must  have  perceived,  Miss  Gray,  that  I  am  not  like  most 
men  whom  every  fair  face  and  form  attracts,  that  I  have 
no  passing  fancies,  and  that  life  and  its  every-day  occur- 
rences are  to  me  serious  things.  What  I  do  and  am,  I 
do  and  am  in  earnest,  and  it  is  the  aim  of  my  existence  to 
be  true,  and  now  that  you  know  something  of  my  dis- 
position, this  prelude  will  prepare  you  for  what  I  am 
about  to  say.  With  me  to  love  once,  is  to  love  for  ever, 
and  to  love  at  all  is  to  give  my  heart,  my  hopes,  my 
being  into  the  keeping  of  her  whom  I  feel  that  God  has 
appointed,  whether  she  return  my  aifection  or  not,  as 
my  life-angel.  It  is  my  joy  and  my  pride  to  say  that  it 
is  thus  that  I  love  you,  and  to  ask  you,  with  a  heart 
trembling  upon  your  decision,  to  be  my  wife,  the  guar- 
dian of  my  life,  and  to  lend  the  light  of  your  presence 
to  my  home  to  make  it  what  it  can  never  be  without  you, 
a  happy  one." 

All  forgotten  was  the  picture  before  which  they  sat, 
so  engrossed  were  they  with  each  other,  Sybil  regarding 
him  with  wonder  and  pity,  tears  glistening  in  her  eyes 
which  from  the  shade  of  sadness  in  them  were  now 
almost  of  a  violet  darkness, — and  Leslie  leaning  forward 
to  catch  her  faintest  whisper  which  would  bid  him  hope 
or  despair.  It  seemed  to  her  as  if  he,  on  that  eager 
greedy  gaze,  must  read  what  was  passing  in  her  heart, 
and  that  she  might  be  spared  the  answer;  but  no,  he 
wanted  words. 

"Speak,  Miss  Gray,"  he  said  almost  imperatively, 
"  this  suspense  is  positive  torture ;  only  say  one  word  to 


Vernon  Grove.  229 

end  it;  say  that  there  is  hope  for  me  and  that  those 
tearful  eyes  bespeak  it." 

Thus  appealed  to,  the  blood  flowed  away  from  Sybil's 
face,  a  trembling  seized  her,  and  her  hands  became  icy 
cold,  for  she  knew  what  an  utter  death  of  hope  her 
answer  must  bring. 

"I  cannot,"  she  began,  but  so  unprepared  had  she 
been  for  his  sudden  avowal,  that  she  knew  not  in  what 
words  to  couch  her  answer,  and  how  to  be  cruel  and  yet 
kind,  and  the  accents  died  away  upon  her  lips ;  one  more 
effort  she  tried  to  make,  but  seeing  Isabel  and  Linwood 
approaching,  she  stopped  confusedly. 

"  Think  of  what  I  have  said,"  said  Leslie  in  a  low  tone, 
as  he  read  anything  but  hope  from  her  countenance ; 
"  it  is  best  to  think  it  over,  and  then  to  tell  me  calmly  of 
my  fate ;  but  oh !  Miss  Gray,  Sybil,  if  it  be  possible,  be 
merciful ;  you  hold  my  happiness  or  my  misery  in  your 
hands." 

Sybil  stepped  into  the  coach,  which  was  to  convey 
her  home,  like  one  in  a  dream ;  Isabel  and  herself  were 
alone,  while  Albert  and  Leslie  followed  in  the  carriage 
of  the  latter.  Isabel  found  her  companion  strangely 
silent,  and  when  she  asked  her  some  trivial  question 
about  the  pictures,  or  pressed  her  to  give  her  opinion  ot 
a  distant  view  which  they  were  passing  of  spires  rising 
above  a  charming  landscape,  Sj^bil  looked  so  distressed 
and  asked  her  so  beseechingly  to  let  her  be  left  to  her 
own  thoughts  for  awhile,  that  Isabel,  fancying  somewhat 
the  state  of  the  case,  indulged  her  in  her  wish, — not  that 
she  imagined  such  a  preposterous  finale  to  Leslie's  devo- 
tion as  a  refusal  from  her  young  protegee,  but  she  thought 
that  he  might  have  said  some  tender  words  which  had 


230  Vernon  Grove. 

sunk  deep  enough  into  the  quiet  current  of  Sybil's  soul 
to  agitate  its  peaceful  flow, — something  which  she,  in  her 
usual  silence,  was  dwelling  on  retrospectively  with  emo- 
tions of  pleasure. 

When  they  reached  home,  Albert  assisted  Isabel  to 
alight,  and  Leslie  hurried  forward  to  conduct  Sybil  up 
the  steps  which  led  into  the  hall.  The  shades  of  twi- 
light were  deepening,  and  yet  there  was  light  enough  in 
the  heavens  to  reveal  to  his  anxious  gaze  a  smile  upon 
Sybil's  countenance,  had  there  been  one,  or  a  glance  of 
answering  love,  but  he  looked  in  vain,  and  she  felt  that 
the  agonized  inquiring  expression  of  his  face  was  a  ques- 
tion which  demanded  a  full  answer,  and  it  came  from 
her  lips  in  accents  of  deep  sorrow. 

"  I  have  thought  it  all  over,"  she  said  softly,  "  and  it 
can  never  be." 

Then  with  this  cei'tainty  of  his  fate  hanging  over  him, 
the  world  reeled  with  him,  and  he  seemed  like  one  stun- 
ned by  a  sudden  blow,  and  looking  upward  as  if  to  ap- 
peal to  a  higher  power,  he  exclaimed,  "  Teach  her,  O  ! 
God,  to  be  merciful !" — but  no  star  met  his  gaze,  no  ray 
of  hope,  only  the  blank  skies  and  the  coming  twilight. 

One  more  appeal  he  ventured  upon,  and  his  voice  was 
turned  to  unutterable  tenderness  as  he  uttered  it.  "  Will 
not  waiting,"  he  said,  "  will  not  months,  nor  years,  will 
no  probation,  no  trial  or  constancy,  bring  me  nearer  to 
my  only  earthly  happiness  ?" 

Sybil  shook  her  head,  and  her  face  must  have  indicated 
how  much  she  herself  was  suffering  in  the  protracted  in- 
terview, for  suddenly  remembering  that  he  was  keeping 
her  there  on  the  threshold,  perhaps  against  her  will,  like 
one  who  sees  a  door  which  shuts  him  out  from  happiness 


Vernon  Grove.  231 

closed  against  him  and  doggedly  accepts  his  fate,  he  put 
out  his  hand  and  clasped  Sybil's  in  his  own,  bidding  her 
an  eternal  farewell. 

"  If  you  cannot  love  me,  pray  for  me,  Sybil,"  he  whis- 
pered hoarsely,  "  for  I  shall  need  your  prayers  in  my 
solitary  wretched  home." 

With  eyes  filled  with  tears,  Sybil  watched  him  for  an 
instant  as  he  walked  slowly  down  the  steps  like  a  man 
suddenly  overtaken  with  blindness,  then  hastening  past 
Isabel  and  Albert,  who  were  awaiting  her  in  the  hall 
and  wondering  what  delayed  her  so  long,  she  paused 
not  until  she  had  reached  her  own  room,  and  there  in  a 
passion  of  tears  her  heart  overflowed  because,  though 
it  could  not  have  been  otherwise,  she  had  wounded  a 
true  and  manly  nature,  whose  only  fault  had  been  in 
loving  her  too  well. 

Sybil  pleaded  a  headache,  and  remained  in  her  own 
room  during  the  rest  of  the  evening,  and  after  Albert's 
departure,  which  was  much  earlier  than  was  usual,  Isabel, 
thinking  that  her  services  might  be  needed,  went  to  offer 
to  her  any  assistance  she  might  require.  It  needed  no 
assurance  on  her  part  to  convince  her  kind  hostess  that 
she  was  suffering,  for  her  eyes  were  heavy  and  swollen, 
and  a  bright  red  spot  burned  in  either  cheek.  But  she 
was  tearless  now,  for  the  storm  had  passed  over  and  had 
left  her  comparatively  calm  and  satisfied.  She  felt  that 
she  had  done  right,  for  she  had  subjected  herself  to  rigid 
self-examination  and  had  decided  that  she  could  never 
have  given  him  the  love  which  he  demanded,  and  to  an 
all-absorbing  passion  like  his,  she  felt  that  it  would  have 
been  mockery  to  offer  the  substitute  of  friendship.  She 
had  concluded,  too,  as  Leslie  had  signified  to  her  that  he 


232  Vernon  Grove. 

was  about  to  depart  from  her  presence  for  ever,  that  it 
would  be  but  just  to  explain  the  cause  of  his  absence  to 
Mrs.  Clayton  and  to  keep  nothing  back  from  her  know- 
ledge. 

"  It  was  kind  in  you  to  leave  your  guests  and  come  to 
me,  my  dear  friend,"  she  said  as  Isabel  entered  and  in- 
quired if  she  felt  any  relief  from  her  headache ;  "  the 
pain  which  I  felt  has  nearly  passed  away,  and  was  sim- 
ply an  attendant  upon  a  sad  experience  Avhich  it  has 
been  my  lot  to  encounter  this  evening,  and  which  agi- 
tated me  more  than  I  can  express.  Your  interest  in  my 
welfare,  however,  is  but  one  among  your  many  acts  of 
kindness  to  me,  and  I  would  return  it  by  a  perfect  con- 
fidence on  my  part.  Mr.  Leslie  told  me  this  evening 
that  I  had  it  in  my  power  to  decide  his  happiness  or 
misery  " 

"And  of  course  you  have  decided  to  make  him  happy, 
dear  Sybil,"  said  Isabel  embracing  her;  "I  must 
congratulate  you  upon  the  conquest  of  such  a  noble  and 
worthy  man." 

"  I  told  him,  noble  and  worthy  as  he  is,"  said  Sybil 
gravely,  "that  I  could  never  be  his  wife." 

A  shade  of  disappointment  and  vexation  passed  over 
Isabel's  face.  "  Foolish  child !"  she  said,  you  will  regret 
this ;  you  will  repent  of  this  mad  folly.  Mud  and  iboii>h 
I  term  your  conduct,  because  there  is  not  one  within  the 
whole  circle  of  my  acquaintance  who  would  not  deem  an 
alliance  with  Mr.  Leslie  as  an  honor  and  an  advantage, 
and  so  you  should  view  it ;  unless,"  she  added,  looking 
full  in  Sybil's  downcast  face,  "  the  heart  that  lie  asked 
for  is  given  to  another,  the  love  that  he  would  win 
be  already  another's  prize." 


Vernon  Grove. 


233 


Sybil  raised  her  eyes  frankly,  nor  shrunk  from  that 
long  and  scrutinizing  gaze. 

"  No,"  she  said  simply  and  without  any  confusion,  "  I 
do  not  love  another.  A  mighty  love  must  draw  me  to 
make  me  give  my  time,  my  affections,  my  life  to  one,  as 
you  have  given  yours  to  Mr.  Clayton.  Every  recess  in 
my  heart  I  must  probe  before  I  could  say  to  one  who 
sought  my  love,  '  with  you  I  could  pass  a  lifetime ;'  some 
thoughts  like  these  passed  through  my  mind  as  Mr.  Les- 
lie eloquently  besought  me  to  pause  ere  I  gave  him  a 
final  answer,  and  then  I  was  certain  that  I  could  not — 
could  not  love  him  as  a  wife  should  love  a  husband,  nor 
could  my  life  be  the  happy  sunshiny  life  that  yours  is." 

"  And  you  think  that  I  am  happy  ?"  said  Isabel  sadly, 
forgetting  for  a  moment  her  young  friend  in  herself. 

Sybil  started  at  that  unusually  solemn  tone,  and  for  an 
instant  looked  anxiously  at  Isabel,  for  her  question 
seemed  to  imply  a  doubt. 

"  So  have  I  always  deemed  you,"  she  said  with  can- 
dor; "so  have  I  always  thought  that  a  woman  must  be 
who  has  married  a  man  whom  she  has  chosen  from  all 
the  world,  and  who  has  no  wish  ungratified.  If  happi- 
ness consist  not  in  this,  then  what  is  it,"  she  asked,  "  I 
mean  the  happiness  which  springs  from  married  life  ?" 

"  Is  there  nothing  more  out  of  God's  treasury  that  he 
can  give  ?"  returned  Isabel  passionately,  while  hot  tears 
coursed  each  other  down  her  face ;  would  nothing  help 
to  fill  up  the  tedious  hours  of  these  long  lonely  days  ? 
Did  it  never  occur  to  you,  Sybil,  that  this  grand  house 
is  too  quiet,  and  that  the  prattle  of  a  child,  the  silvery 
tones  of  a  youthful  voice,  the  loving  clasp  of  a  dimpled 
hand,  the  pattering  of  little  feet,  the  trusting  look  in  an 


234  Vernon  Grove. 

infant's  eyes,  might  make  me  happier  ?  Oh,  Sybil,  you 
cannot  realize  the  longing,  you  cannot  fathom  the  inten- 
sity of  that  one  wish  of  mine,  breathed  in  vain  to  the 
earth,  the  air, — ay,  to  Heaven  itself,  and  denied." 

For  a  brief  space  of  time  Isabel's  proud  form  was  bent 
and  her  face  buried  in  her  hands  in  a  momentary  strug- 
gle with  herself;  when  she  looked  up  again  it  wore  its 
accustomed  calm  careless  beauty,  and  her  light  musical 
voice  was  no  longer  broken  and  sad. 

"How  foolish  I  was  to  intrude  my  troubles  upon 
you,"  she  said,  "  when  we  were  discussing  yourself  and 
not  me  ;  Sybil,  forget  them  ;  think  once  more  that  I  am 
just  what  you  imagined  me  to  be." 

"  I  cannot  forget  that  you  are  not  happy,  dear  Mrs. 
Clayton,"  replied  Sybil. 

"  But  I  am  happy,  child, — forget  my  folly  in  revealing 
to  you  my  one  wild  ungranted  prayer ;  and  now  let  us 
turn  back  again  to  yourself.  Answer  me  candidly,  Sy- 
bil. Leslie,  you  say,  is  out  of  the  question ;  tell  me, 
then,  with  those  truthful  eyes  of  yours  looking  full  at 
me,  if  you  are  sure  that  you  love  no  one  else  ?" 

"  Whom  should  I  love  ?"  said  she.  "  Mr.  Vernon, 
my  grandmother,  Mr.  Clayton,  and  yourself,  are  my 
world ;  beyond  it,  and  the  love  which  I  meet  there,  I 
know  of  no  other  love ;  believe  me,  for  I  would  not  de- 
ceive you,  dear  Mrs.  Clayton." 

Isabel  was  satisfied,  and  yet  as  she  stooped  to  kiss 
Sybil's  brow,  she  could  not  resist  another  appeal  to  the 
foolish  child  who  had  thrown  away  such  an  amount  of 
positive  good  as  the  rejected  hand  of  Leslie.  "  You  had 
better  let  me  call  him  back,"  she  said. 

"  No,  wo,"  said  Svbil  more  emphatically  than  before  ; 


Vernon  Grove.  235 

while  Isabel  bade  her  good  night  laughingly,  and  left 
her  alone  once  more.  Disappointed  in  the  result  of  Les- 
lie's suit,  but  satisfied  that  Sybil  was  heart-free,  she  left 
the  sequel  to  time,  and  waited  to  consult  Florence  upon 
the  next  step  which  it  was  advisable  for  them  to  take. 
The  conclusion  that  the  friends  eventually  arrived  at  was, 
that  Sybil,  without  being  aware  of  it,  was  interested  in 
Albert ;  and  as  her  conduct  to  him  each  day  made  sur- 
mise conviction,  they  rejoiced  once  more  together  that, 
though  not  far-sighted  enough  to  foretell  the  termina- 
tion of  their  former  plans,  they  could  not  now  be  mis- 
taken in  their  newly-raised  hopes. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

"On  a  sudden,  through  the  glistening 
Leaves  around  a  little  stirred, 

Came  a  sound,  a  sense  of  music,  whicn  was  rather  felt  tnan 
heard. 

Softly,  finely,  it  inwound  me — 

From  the  world  it  shut  me  in — 
Like  a  fountain  falling  round  me, 

"WTiich  with  silver  waters  thin 
Clips  a  little  marble  Naiad,  sitting  smilingly  within, 
"Whence  the  music  came,  who  knoweth?" 

MRS.  BROWNING. 

ALBERT  LTNWOOD,  previous  to  his  acquaintance  with 
Sybil,  had  only  been  a  worshipper  of  art ;  the  rose  on  a 
fair  woman's  cheek  wras  not  to  him  an  index  of  health,  or 
an  eye  bright  with  intelligence  an  earnest  of  the  mind 
within,  they  were  merely  regarded  by  him  as  fit  subjects 
for  his  pencil ;  and  so  absorbed  had  he  been  in  his  studio 
among  his  paintings,  that  the  thought  of  love  for  any  of 
the  fair  forms,  which  often  looked  in  upon  the  rapt 
artist  as  his  pictures  grew  upon  the  canvass,  or  for  the 
habituees  whom  he  met  in  the  fascinating  whirl  of  society 
never  entered  into  his  imagination.  Life  contained  for 
him  but  three  objects,  all  centring  in  the  first,  and 
they  ranked  thus  : — improvement  in  his  profession  until 
it  had  reached  a  point  where  fame  would  be  a  certain 


Vernon  Grove.  237 

reward,  next  Vernon's  approbation,  and  lastly  a  return 
to  Ins  native  land,  crowned  with  honors. 

Tims  the  first  evening  that  he  saw  Sybil,  and  the 
moonlight  discovered  to  him  her  radiant  loveliness,  he 
felt  the  true  artist-emotion  of  admiration  for  what  was  so 
singularly  exquisite,  nay  more,  he  regarded  her  as  some- 
tiling  which  was  of  greater  consequence  to  himself,  a 
model.  In  her  fair  hair  he  saw  a  realization  of  Titian's 
dreams  of  beauty,  in  her  blue  eyes  the  very  shade  which 
he  had  so  nearly  portrayed  in  her  own  picture,  his  Ideal. 
Then  her  "  coloring,"  in  artist's  phrase,  was  so  much 
like  that  which  had  been  handed  down  from  early  times 
of  art,  and  which  the  painters  of  the  modern  schools  tried 
but  in  vain  to  copy,  that  he  longed  for  his  easel  to  take 
a  new  and  perhaps  successful  lesson  from  nature ;  and 
her  form,  so  lithe,  yet  so  firm  and  full,  was  a  study  in 
itself.  But  though  Linwood's  admiration  was  excited, 
his  heart  was  not  touched ;  if  a  stray  wave  of  hair  escaped 
from  its  fastening  and  glittered  like  gold  in  the  sunlight, 
he  thought  how  easily  with  brush  in  hand  he  might  make 
the  circling  rings  enduring ;  did  the  shadow  of  her  dark 
lashes  rest  for  a  moment  upon  her  glowing  cheek,  and 
did  her  face  assume  a  thoughtful  expression,  at  once  in 
imagination  he  encircled  it  with  a  halo  like  another 
Madonna. 

In  this  absence  of  all  heart-worship  lay  Sybil's  uncon- 
scious trust  of  him,  for  had  his  voice  breathed  love  or 
his  eyes  looked  it,  she  would  have  shrunk  back  into 
herself  frightened  at  the  perfect  confidence  which  she 
had  reposed  in  him  ;  but  as  Vernon's  friend,  as  her 
correspondent,  as  the  familiar  guest  of  her  friends,  Sybil 
gave  herself  up  to  the  charm  of  his  society,  which 


238  Vernon  Grove. 

contained  a  fascination  that  few  could  resist.  Soon 
however  there  came  a  change  unperceived  at  first  by 
her  and  almost  unfelt  by  him,  so  like  was  it  to  the 
gradual  coming  of  twilight  over  the  sea,  so  silent  in  its 
approach,  nor  did  he  realize  it  until  he  discovered  that 
there  was  a  higher  object  in  life  than  even  rivalling  the 
great  masters  in  painting,  and  that  so  he  gained  it, 
content  was  he  to  spend  an  existence  inglorious  and  void 
of  ambition,  and  Sybil's  smile  was  this  rival  to  his  art. 
As  a  flower  opening  to  the  sun  he  gave  one  by  one  every 
leaf  into  her  keeping,  and  then  his  whole  heart  lay  bare, 
all  her  own ;  she  was  the  light,  the  warmth,  the  sun  that 
had  given  life  to  the  flower  upon  which  they  had  rested, 
and  to  him  this  new  experience,  this  developing  growth, 
was  a  blessed  dream,  more  enthralling  and  absorbing 
than  any  of  his  old  dreams  of  distinction  and  power. 

A  fear  that  he  should  offend  her,  a  desire  to  make 
himself  acceptable  to  her  in  every  way,  were  now  his 
ruling  passions,  and  a  wish  of  hers,  however  simple  or 
extravagant,  if  possibly  attainable,  was  always  attended 
to  and  gratified  by  her  ever-watchful  admirer.  Daily, 
rare  and  beautiful  flowers,  arranged  with  all  the  know- 
ledge of  an  artist's  combination  of  colors,  graced  her 
table ;  music  he  brought  her  when  fresh  from  the 
composer's  hand ;  exquisite  plants  and  books,  and  all 
those  little  gifts  which  are  too  simple  to  be  returned  or 
refused  by  the  most  fastidious,  and  which  were  dictated 
by  a  perfectly  refined  taste  and  a  thorough  knowledge 
of  the  forms  of  society. 

One  evening,  the  conversation  taking  a  general  turn 
at  Mrs.  Clayton's,  music  was  discussed,  its  soothing 
or  exciting  influence,  from  the  first  lullaby  sung  to  the 


Vernon  Grove.  239 

almost  unconscious  infant,  to  the  stirring  strains  of  a 
martial  band.  It  was  a  wide  field  for  one  who  was  at 
home  upon  the  subject,  and  soon  all  were  listening  to 
Albert  as  he  touched  upon  different  styles  of  music  and 
the  softening  power  which  it  had  exercised  upon  man- 
kind, not  forgetting  the  rude  drums  of  barbarous  nations, 
the  harp  and  timbrel  of  the  Scriptures,  the  wandering 
minstrels,  the  organ  with  its  solemn  appeal  to  wrhat  was 
religious  in  our  nature,  the  piano  with  its  varied  powers, 
the  viol  and  its  lively  measure,  and  lastly  night  music 
sounding  in  the  serenade  beneath  the  window  of  some 
listening  lady  fair. 

Sybil's  eyes  grew  brighter  as  she  listened,  and  hers 
was  the  next  voice  that  spoke.  She  always  regretted, 
she  said,  that  the  days  of  chivalry  had  passed,  and  that  she 
had  not  lived  in  the  olden  times,  when  through  the 
casements  of  their  "  ladye  loves"  the  gallant  knights  told 
of  their  affection  in  song,  or  a  band  of  instrumental  music 
came  softly  borne  on  the  night  air  mingling  in  a  sleeper's 
dreams. 

"  You  talk  as  though  the  fashion  were  obsolete,"  said 
Isabel,  "  when,  in  truth,  serenading  is  as  customary  as 
ever;  it  did  not  die  out  with  Blondel,  nor  yet  with 
Shakspeare's  enamored  heroes,  and  though  I  cannot  boast 
of  a  plumed  chevalier,  with  guitar  strung  by  a  blue  ribbon 
on  his  shoulder,  pouring  out  his  admiration  in  a  love  ditty, 
yet  I  have  often  had  a  modern  serenade  so  beautiful  in 
its  perfect  harmony  of  varied  instruments  that  I  have 
felt  glad  to  be  able  to  say  that  I  belong  to  the  present 
age  rather  than  those  which  are  past." 

"  How  delightful,"  said  Sybil,  "  a  serenade  must  be. 
It  must  appear  like  going  to  sleep  soberly  in  this  every- 


240  Vernon  Grove. 

day  world,  and  awakening  in  fairy  land  to  hear  midnight 
music." 

That  night  Sybil  slumbered  in  the  sweet  sleep  of  youth, 
that  deep  unconsciousness,  that  dreamless  state  which 
seldom  comes  to  us  after  we  have  had  struggles  and 
sorrows,  but  at  midnight  she  started  from  her  couch 
trembling  with  delight,  for  just  beneath  her  window  a 
melody  uprose,  so  sweet  and  exquisite  in  its  every  note, 
that  she  thought  it  must  be  the  music  of  a  dream. 

A  first  serenade !  What  moment  in  a  young  maiden's 
life  can  compare  with  it !  What  a  feeling  of  pride  and 
importance  it  gives  her ;  with  what  a  timid,  trembling 
hand  a  taper  is  lit ;  how  hastily  and  yet  gracefully  a  shawl 
is  thrown  around  her  white-robed  form :  how  her  cheek 
flushes  as  she  draws  near  the  window  and  screens  herself 
behind  the  protecting  blind.  Then  how  all  personal 
feeling  is  forgotten  in  the  cadence  of  sweet  sounds  ;  how 
the  white  feet  keep  time  to  the  melody,  the  lips  murmur- 
ing the  while  inaudible  thanks  to  the  mysterious  visitants 
who  unseen  minister  to  her  pleasure.  Ah,  it  is  an  expe- 
rience never  to  be  forgotten,  at  least  so  thought  Sybil  as 
she  listened  with  her  whole  soul  to  the  midnight  music. 

As  she  thus  stood  with  heightened  color,  more  brilliant 
because  of  the  crimson  curtains  which  lent  a  still  deeper 
glow  to  her  flushed  cheeks,  Isabel  softly  entered  with  her 
finger  on  her  lip  enjoining  silence,  and  they  listened 
together  to  the  delightful  strains. 

They  were  a  contrast  too  striking,  too  beautiful  to  be 
passed  unnoticed ;  the  one  so  brilliant  and  changeful,  yet 
so  lovely  withal,  with  her  restless  eyes,  quiet  for  a  moment, 
and  a  smile  upon  her  parted  lips,  every  faculty,  as  it  were, 
wide  awake,  and  listening  with  her  whole  beino:;  the 


Vernon  Grove.  241 

other  in  the  shadow,  softer,  gentler,  her  eyes  half-closed, 
her  head  resting  upon  her  hand,  and  every  limb  in  an 
almost  statue-like  repose,  every  sense  dreaming,  every 
emotion  lulled  into  quiet  by  the  harmony. 

A  sudden  silence  changed  them  both,  to  Isabel  it  gave 
a  voice,  to  Sybil  an  awakening  from  her  delicious  trance, 
while  the  footsteps  of  the  performers  died  away  in  the 
distance. 

"  Do  you  know  to  whom  you  owe  this  pleasure  ?"  said 
Isabel,  "  do  you  know  to  whose  thoughtful  interest  you 
can  trace  your  first  serenade .?" 

"  It  could  scarcely  have  been  for  me,"  said  Sybil,  "  or 
if  it  was,  it  must  have-  been  performed  by  some  invisible 
spirits  of  the  air  who  heard  my  wish  to-night." 

"  You  owe  it  to  Albert,  Sybil ;  how  kind  he  is,  how  he 
is  ever  planning  for  the  lady  of  his  thoughts  happy 
surprises,  unexpected  delights." 

"  He  is  indeed  good,  and  thoughtful,  and  kind," 
answered  Sybil. 

"  It  is  the  way  that  he  tells  his  love,  dear  child," 
returned  Isabel. 

Sybil  blushed  crimson,  a  blush  of  pleasure,  Isabel 
thought,  but  it  was  one  rather  of  pain  to  her  to  whom 
this  revelation  came. 

"  Yes,"  said  Isabel  in  answer  to  the  blush,  "  it  is  love 
which  dictates  all  that  he  does ;  a  love,  which,  when  you 
come  to  return  it  in  its  full  depth  and  purity,  will  make 
your  happiness ;  and  which  Richard  will  sanction  with 
his  whole  heart,  for  you  are  both  very  dear  to  him,  his 
little  Sybil  and  his  friend  Albert." 

Sybil  sat  down ;  her  limbs  would  not  sustain  her;  she 
felt  suddenly  cold  and  trembling. 
11 


242  Vernon  Grove. 

"  Tell  him,  tell  Mr.  Linwood,"  she  began,  she  was 
going  to  say,  "  not  to  love  me,"  when  Isabel  interrupted 
her  with  a  kiss  and  hastened  from  the  room. 

Sybil  did  not  sleep  after  Isabel  had  left  her,  but  kept 
vigil  until  the  dawn.  "  What  if  Albert  really  loved 
her,"  she  asked  herself  "  as  Leslie  had ;  Albert,  Ver- 
non's  friend  ?  What  if  he  were  to  say  to  her,  '  you  can 
make  my  happiness  or  misery,'  and  if  her  answer  were 
to  be  as  before,  'it  can  never,  never  be,'  how  would 
Vernon  regard  her  after  her  rejection  of  one  he  loved 
so  well  ?» 

Sybil  was  bewildered ;  she  longed  for  a  friend  to  whom 
to  turn  for  advice  and  counsel — but  whom  had  she  ? 
She  was  alone  there  though  surrounded  by  human 
beings.  With  Isabel  she  could  scarcely  sympathize  ; 
Clayton  was  too  much  immersed  in  business  to  give  her 
any  but  a  passing  notice,  and  Florence  too  cold  and  for- 
bidding. To  Vernon  himself  she  might  have  applied, 
but  he  was  too  far  off  for  any  communication  of  so  deli- 
cate a  nature,  and  her  aunt  Mary,  whom  she  knew, 
rather  by  what  had  been  told  her  than  by  personal  ac- 
quaintance with  her  character,  to  be  kind  and  tender- 
hearted, too  much  a  stranger  to  her  to  ask  for  her  ad- 
vice. And  so,  like  many  another  inexperienced  girl, 
pressed  hard  by  circumstances,  mistaking  fancy  for  the 
delicious  ennobling  feeling  of  love,  trusting  to  do  right, 
yet  almost  knowing  that  it  was  wrong,  fluctuating  daily, 
hourly  in  purpose  ; — in  a  moment,  when  there  seemed 
to  be  no  other  refuge,  no  escape,  with  her  heart  far 
away  from  her  words,  and  her  lips  colorless  and  quiver- 
ing she  promised  to  be  Albert  Linwood's  wife. 

But  we  are  anticipating. 


Vernon  Grove.  243 

The  morning  after  Sybil's  ever-memorable  serenade, 
Albert  Linwood  made  his  appearance  at  Mr.  Clayton's 
at  an  e:\rly  hour,  and  Sybil,  frightened  by  what  Isabel 
had  told  her,  and  thinking  that  a  manner  as  cordial  as 
hers  had  been,  might  give  him  encouragement,  was 
silent,  almost  coldly  so,  during  his  visit.  She  politely, 
though  in  measured  words,  thanked  him  for  the  plea- 
sure that  she  had  enjoyed,  and  then  relapsed  into  that 
calm  indifferent  state  which  almost  maddened  Albert, 
and  discovered  to  him  how  fervently  he  loved  her,  and 
how  much  he  prized  her  smiles.  Then  Sybil  seeing  the 
anguish  depicted  in  his  face,  felt  that  she  had  been  pre- 
mature in  treating  him  as  if  he  had  already  declared 
himself,  and  in  the  effort  to  regain  her  former  state  of 
playful  confidence,  raised  Albert's  hopes  once  more,  until 
a  few  whispered  words  of  tenderness  from  him  chilled 
her  again  into  coldness.  And  again  when  he  had  taken 
leave  of  Isabel  and  approached  Sybil,  holding  out  his 
hand  as  usual  for  a  parting  pressure,  she  drew  herself  up 
almost  haughtily,  and  appearing  not  to  notice  his  out- 
stretched hand,  passed  from  the  room. 

Poor  Sybil  was  a  mystery  to  herself,  she  knew  that 
Linwood  must  feel  that  her  manner  was  cruelly  capri- 
cious, she  longed  to  fly  away  from  the  problem  which 
distracted  her,  which  was  to  find  out  just  how  to  conduct 
herself  towards  Albert — but  that  was  not  possible,  her 
visit  to  Isabel  was  not  over,  and  she  felt  with  a  troubled 
heart  that  while  endeavoring  to  act  aright,  she  met  with 
a  signal  failure. 

After  a  few  days  of  this  trying  state  of  things,  like  a 
river  which  has  gradually  swollen  and  at  last  impetuously 
overflowed  its  banks,  Albert  Linwood  rushed  madly 


244  Vernon  Grove. 

upon  liis  fate.  He  felt  that  he  must  know  his  destiny, 
he  felt  that  anything  was  better  than  those  sudden  reac- 
tions from  joy  to  despair  and  from  despair  back  again  to 
joy  ;  the  better  part  of  his  nature  was  wearing  away 
under  the  suffering  which  he  endured,  and  like  one  who 
has  staked  his  all  upon  a  single  issue,  he  told  her  of  his 
love. 

Sybil  Gray  was  not  surprised  at  his  declaration,  nor 
did  she  feign  ignorance  of  his  sentiment ;  she  had  ex- 
pected it,  and  she  thought  that  all  that  remained  for  her 
to  do,  was  to  place  her  hand  calmly  in  his  with  sisterly 
kindness  and  tell  him  that  she  would  be  his  friend,  sim- 
ply his  friend,  until  life's  history  was  over ;  but  passion- 
ately he  arrested  those  cold  measured  utterances  and 
stormed  the  citadel  of  her  heart  with  protestations  of 
his  eternal  constancy.  He  would  wait  patiently  until 
she  had  learned  to  love  him,  he  would  be  content  even 
to  love  her  without  a  return  if  she  would  promise  to  be 
his,  trusting  to  his  devotion  to  win  her  affections  at  last ; 
he  would  do  all,  be  all  for  her  sake ;  if  she  required  it 
he  would  relinquish  his  favorite  occupation  and  live  only 
in  her  presence  ready  to  come  and  go  at  her  bidding,  he 
simply  desired  her  not  to  say  that  word  which  would 
sever  them  for  ever. 

And  to  the  utterance  of  this  mighty  love  Sybil  lis- 
tened sadly  ;  it  was  a  love  which  would  have  satisfied 
many  a  lonely  yearning  heart,  but  not  Sybil's.  There 
Avas  still  something  wanting  after  all  eloquence  had  been 
exhausted  in  its  cause. 

Some  men,  too  proud  for  pleading,  would  have  been 
satisfied  that  the  averted  and  emphatic,  "  I  must  not, 
cannot  listen  to  you,  I  can  give  you  no  hope,"  were  what 


Vernon  Grove.  245 

they  really  expressed,  explicit  denial,  but  to  Albert, 
pride,  where  the  winning  of  Sybil  was  concerned,  was  a 
forgotten  thing ;  he  loved  madly,  he  pursued  madly,  he 
would  hope  on  until  death  or  her  marriage  with  another 
came  between  him  and  his  one  object  in  life. 

Sometimes  such  love  is  rewarded,  sometimes  patience 
and  prayer  bring  to  pass  our  wildest,  most  unreasona- 
ble desires,  and  in  the  meantime  Linwood  lived  on  hope. 

Isabel  was  an  unwearied  watcher  in  all  that  apper- 
tained to  Sybil,  and  certainly  was  not  idle  in  acting. 
She  played  her  part  systematically  and  well,  seeing  with 
her  quick  intelligent  eyes  something  of  the  real  state 
of  things,  and  at  last  winning  from  Albert  by  her  inter- 
est and  sympathy  his  entire  confidence.  After  every 
conference  with  her,  he  left  her  more  cheerful,  for  she 
always  gave  him  the  hope  that  all  would  eventually  be 
as  he  desired,  and  that  such  constancy  and  love  would 
win  its  reward  at  last. 

But  there  was  another  who  looked  with  stronger  in- 
terest than  Isabel  upon  the  result,  and  it  was  after  a 
long  interview  with  her  that  Isabel  wrote  and  despatched 
the  following  note  to  her  brother : 

"How  forlorn  and  lonely  you  must  be,  dear  Richard,  in  your  now- 
deserted  home,  how  in  need  of  some  cheering  words !  My  hand  can 
be  stayed  no  longer  from  writing  to  you  and  giving  you  some  general 
intelligence  as  to  how  we  progress  in  this  gay,  busy,  bustling  world  of 
ours.  First,  I  must  write  of  Sybil.  She  is  enjoying  herself  as  you 
must  have  anticipated,  for  how  could  such  a  happy  hopeful  nature  as 
hers  be  pining  and  unsatisfied  when  we  have  laid  ourselves  out  to 
plan  pleasures  and  inventions  for  her  enjoyment.  I  am  proud  of  being 
the  guardian  of  one  so  beautiful  and  admired  as  she  is,  nor  am  I  less 
proud  of  the  impression  that  she  has  made  in  society,  and  \ve  all.  as 
well  as  herself,  unite  in  pleading  with  you  for  another  month  of  ab- 


246  Vernon  Grove. 

sence  for  her.  You  will  not  be  astonished  when  you  think  of  her 
attractions,  that  I  have  a  little  secret  to  tell  you  concerning  the  dear 
child.  It  is  this,  that  she  has  discarded,  though  against  my  will  and 
advice,  the  best  match  in  the  city,  a  man  altogether  worthy  of  her, 
and  one  whom  you  yourself  would  have  approved.  She  will  tell  you 
her  reasons,  I  suppose,  herself,  as  it  is  rather  a  difficult  matu-r  to  treat 
of  here. 

"My  next  subject  must  be  your  friend  Albert  Linwood.  Tie  men- 
tioned to  me  that  he  had  written  to  you  the  day  he  returned,  advising 
you  of  his  arrival,  with  a  promise  of  a  speedy  visit  to  Vernon  Grove. 
This,  for  the  present,  is  indefinitely  postponed — why,  you  will  learn 
farther  on.  I  must  premise  by  saying  that  Linwood  has  great  attrac- 
tions, is  independent,  handsome,  and  agreeable,  with  his  European 
graces  still  lingering  about  him,  and  the  charm  of  Italy  in  his  eyes. 
We  always  welcome  him  gladly,  first  for  your  sake,  and  next  for  his 
own  intrinsic  merit.  Now  here  is  the  reason  why  he  has  not  hastened 
to  see  you.  No  sooner  did  he  land  upon  his  native  shores  than  he 
became  enamored  of  a  charming  young  girl  here,  who  it  is  thought 
smiles  upon  him  in  return,  and  he  is  so  much  in  love  that  he  cannot 
spare  one  moment  from  her  side  to  visit  you  ;  that  will  come  in  time, 
however,  when  his  fate  is  decided.  All  he  wants  from  you  now  is  the 
sanction  of  your  friendship  to  his  love,  and  God  speed  to  his  heart's 
first  wish,  which  I  have  no  doubt  you  will  give,  and  some  day  not  far 
in  the  future,  he  hopes  to  introduce  his  bride  to  you. 

"You  may  like  to  hear  something  of  your  old  friend  Florence  Percy. 
It  seems  to  me,  and  all,  that  her  whole  nature  is  changed ;  she  is  very 
beautiful  in  her  quiet  demeanor,  for  you  must  know  that  she  has  taken 
a  dislike  to  society  and  lives  in  a  very  retired  manner,  and  I  am  sure 
by  many  expressions  that  fall  from  her  lips  that  she  is  pining  to  be 
once  more  in  the  country. 

""Write  through  your  amanuensis  a  few  words  to  your  loving 

"ISABEL." 

Vernon  received  the  above  epistle  just  in  time  to  save 
him  from  a  very  melancholy  fit  of  reverie,  for  each  <l;>.y 
the  absence  of  Sybil  was  becoming  less  bearable.  His 
dark  sunless  world  seemed  more  gloomy  than  ever,  and 


Vernon  Grove.  247 

his  old  impatient  mood  was  fast  gaining  an  ascendency 
over  him.  But  now  that  he  was  assured  that  she  was 
well  and  happy,  now  that  he  had  heard  of  her,  and  the 
dead  blank  of  silence  was  broken,  he  felt  more  resigned, 
even  though  he  knew  that  another  month  was  to  be 
added  to  her  stay:  other  feelings  influenced  him  too, 
which  will  be  touched  upon  hereafter.  His  reply  to 
Isabel's  letter  was  as  follows: 

"  I  have  received  your  letter,  dear  Isabel,  and  feel  grateful  to  you 
for  the  kindness  which  dictated  your  sending  it  to  me.  Anything 
which  tells  me  of  your  welfare  and  Sybil's  is  welcome;  keep  her 
another  month  by  all  means  if  she  desires  it,  but  do  not  let  your  fasci- 
nations, or  those  of  any  one  else,  steal  her  heart  entirely  away  from 
Vernon  Grove. 

"  As  for  Albert,  God  be  thanked  that  he  is  at  home  again  in  safety. 
And  so  he  wants  my  sympathy  in  a  new  cause — it  is  early  to  ask  it, 
lie  has  but  so  recently  returned ;  he  must  literally  have  fallen,  as  a 
bird  falls  into  a  snare,  into  love.  I  really  thought  that  he  was  proof 
to  all  charms  and  spells  but  those  of  his  beloved  art.  Nevertheless, 
though  I  am  a  little  jealous,  ranking  myself  as  I  have  always  done 
second  in  his  affections,  tell  him  that  I  congratulate  him  with  my 
whole  heart  on  the  happy  life  which  has  opened  upon  him — I  say  happy, 
because  J  know  that  he  could  never  choose  one  unworthy  of  him,  and 
that  I  do  indeed  bid  him  God  speed.  Nay  more,  say  to  her  whom  he 
would  win,  that  no  truer  heart  beats  under  heaven  than  his,  and  that 
one  who  is  a  brother  to  him  in  all  things  save  blood,  would  with  his  most 
earnest  counsel,  nay  with  his  last  breath,  if  it  were  required,  entreat 
her  to  reject  him  not. 

"Say  to  Sybil,  that  in  her  grandmother  there  is  no  change;  my 
daily  visit  is  paid  to  her  as  a  mere  form,  for  she  does  not  recognize  me 
at  all ;  repeat  to  her  if  any  change  should  occur  it  shall  be  immedi- 
ately made  known  to  her." 

These,  with  a  few  added  words  relating  to  Sybil, 
asking  Isabel  to  spare  no  expense  to  gratify  her  tastes, 


248  Vernon  Grove. 

and  toTsee  that  her  wants  were  all  supplied,  were  what 
Vernon's  letter  contained.  The  reception  of  it  threw 
Isabel  into  an  ecstacy  of  delight,  and  long  and  earnest 
was  the  conference  of  the  friends  upon  the  day  of  its 
arrival ;  it  was  read,  and  re-read,  and  commented  upon, 
and  finally  they  concluded  that  fate  must  be  leagued  to 
assist  them,  so  admirably  did  their  plot  progress. 

Sybil  had  obtained  a  promise  from  Albert  to  be  silent 
upon  the  subject  of  his  love,  as  it  seemed  to  her  impos- 
sible that  the  time  would  ever  come  when  she  could 
respond  to  it,  but  though  he  resolutely  kept  his  word, 
even  the  most  indifferent  spectator  wrould  have  detected 
his  admiration  of  her  in  his  looks  and  acts.  Not  that 
they  were  obtrusive  or  annoying  to  her,  for  never  was 
love  more  delicately  expressed  than  in  his  deferential 
manner,  and  even  Sybil  was  touched  writh  his  devotion. 
If  such  a  thing  could  be,  she  almost  loved  him,  and  often 
wondered  wThat  prevented  her  returning  his  generous 
affection,  for  she  acknowledged  to  herself  that  he  was 
one  who  was  eminently  calculated  to  win  the  heart  of 
the  most  fastidious  of  her  sex,  as  much  by  his  intellect 
as  by  the  gifts  which  nature  had  bestowed  upon  him  in 
many  ways ;  still  she  felt  in  her  heart  of  hearts  that  he 
•was  not  the  magician  who  with  his  wand  could  lead  her 
by  his  will,  and  she  trembled  for  fear  that  the  pity  which 
is  "akin  to  love"  might  conquer  at  last,  and  that  an 
encouraging  word  on  her  part  giving  him  some  thread 
of  hope  might  lead  him  to  expect,  eventually,  to  gain 
more  of  her  favor.  The  time  allotted  to  her  visit  had 
expired,  and  she  looked  confidently  to  her  departure 
as  a  deliverance  from  her  embarrassing  situation ;  she 
had  fixed  upon  a  day  of  return,  and  was  making  all 


Vernon  Grove.  249 

her  preparations  relative  to  it  when  Vernon's  letter 
came. 

Isabel  watched  her  opportunity  and  took  the  most 
favorable  time  for  acquainting  Sybil  with  its  contents. 
The  occasion  she  chose  was  just  after  Lin  wood  had 
brought  to  Sybil  an  exquisite  plant,  which  he  had  been 
at  some  pains  to  procure,  bearing  it  away  from  numerous 
other  applicants,  and  she  knew  by  her  voice,  which  at 
once  chid  his  extravagance,  and  the  gratified  smile  that 
played  over  her  face,  that  her  heart  was  touched  and 
softened  by  this  new  act  of  devotion. 

Sybil  had  retired  to  her  own  room  for  the  night,  bear- 
ing in  her  hands  the  precious  exotic,  and  had  placed  it 
upon  a  stand,  and  was  seated  before  it  inhaling  its 
delicious  perfume  and  examining  anew  the  extraordinary 
richness  of  its  coloring,  when  Isabel  entered  and  told 
her  that  she  had  just  received  a  letter  from  her  brother. 
Sybil's  hand  was  extended  to  receive  it,  but  Isabel  told 
her  playfully  that  brothers  and  sisters  were  supposed  to 
have  some  secrets,  and  that  although  she  could  not  part 
with  the  letter,  she  would  gratify  Sybil's  natural  desire 
to  hear  from  Yernon  Grove  by  reading  her  some  portions 
of  it. 

Then  she  read  the  part  about  her  grandmother's 
health,  and  gravely  added,  in  language  like  Vernon's,  a 
desire  of  his  that  she  should  remain  a  month  longer,  as 
it  was  best  for  several  reasons,  and  at  last  turned  to  that 
part  which  concerned  Albert;  here  she  unfalteringly 
proceeded  in  Vernon's  exact  words,  from  the  joy  which 
his  arrival  had  given,  on  to  his  commendation  of  his 
friend,  and  lastly  the  charge  to  her  whom  he  loved,  art- 
fully giving  Sybil  to  understand  that  Vernon  knew  that 
11* 


250  Vernon  Grove. 

it  was  she,  knew  that  Albert  had  chosen  her  from  all 
others,  and  that  nothing  would  gratify  her  guardian  so 
much  as  that  she  should  be  his  wife. 

A  long  silence  followed  Isabel's  words,  which  fell  deeper 
into  her  auditor's  heart  than  even  the  former  was  aware. 

"  And  so  he  wishes  it,  he  advises  it  ?"  she  said  at  last 
sadly,  "  he  is  tired  of  his  little  Sybil  and  would  give  her 
away  to  another." 

"That  it  is  the  first  wish  of  his  heart  you  cannot 
doubt,"  said  Isabel. 

"  The  first  wish  of  Mr.  Vernon's  heart !" 

A  sigh  which  was  almost  like  a  groan  followed  the 
echo  of  Isabel's  words. 

"Yes,"  answered  Isabel,  taking  her  hand  and  encir- 
cling her  with  her  arm,  "  I  mean  that  your  welfare  is  Rich- 
ard's chief  aim  in  life,  for  he  feels  to  you  as  a  brother,  nay, 
almost  as  a  father  who  desires  to  secure  the  happiness  of 
his  child.  Look  back  upon  the  past  and  consider  what 
he  has  been  to  you ;  you  owe  him  almost  everything, 
he  has  petted  you,  watched  over  you,  and  often  sacri- 
ficed his  pleasures  for  yours,  and  even  your  slightest 
wish  has  been  as  a  command  to  him." 

"I  need  no  reminder  of  his  unvarying  kindness,"  an- 
swered Sybil,  suddenly  overcome  with  tears. 

"Then,"  continued  Isabel,  seeing  the  impression  that 
her  words  made,  "remember  that  it  is  no  sacrifice  he 
wishes  you  to  incur;  no  terrible  self-abnegation;  he 
simply  wants  you  to  accept  a  fate  which  would  bring 
joy  to  his  heart  and  happiness  to  that  of  his  best  friend, 
a  man  who  has  everything  to  recommend  him,  position, 
wealth,  which  he  has  gained  by  his  OAvn  talents  and  in- 
dustry, beauty  of  person,  gentleness  and  manliness. 


Vernon  Grove.  251 

Oh,  Sybil,  pause  before  you  say  another  word,  which 
might  condemn  the  one  to  disappointment,  the  other  to 
a  life-long  misery  and  exile  from  home." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?"  asked  Sybil,  suddenly  raising 
her  tearful  eyes  and  flushed  face  to  Isabel's. 

"  I  mean,"  she  answered,  "  that  Albert  Lin  wood  is 
reduced  almost  to  despair ;  the  love  which  he  has  for 
you  is  more  intense,  more  deeply  rooted  in  his  nature 
than  the  love  which  is  common  among  men.  I  have  but 
a  while  ago  left  him,  and  he  tells  me  that  he  cannot  en- 
dure this  continued  struggle,  and  that  it  must  end  in 
his  avoiding  your  presence,  not  that  he  complained  that 
it  was  your  fault  that  you  were  not  able  to  love  him,  but 
he  only  in  broken  voice  deplored  his  fate,  and  said  that 
as  soon  as  he  had  seen  Vernon,  he  would  go  as  quickly 
as  possible  back  to  Europe,  never  to  return  here  again." 

"  And  of  course  I  shall  be  the  cause,"  answered  Sy- 
bil bitterly,  "  of  separating  two  friends  whose  affection 
for  each  other  is  almost  fabulous  in  its  intensity.  I  shall 
be  the  one  to  deprive  Mr.  Vernon  of  the  almost  only 
comfort  of  his  darkened  existence  ;  because  it  is  my  fiat, 
Mr.  Linwood  will  desert  his  friend !" 

"Such  will  be  the  case,"  answered  Isabel  gravely, 
"  but  at  the  same  time  you  must  remember  that  you  can- 
al not  help  it ;  you  will  only  be  the  innocent  cause  of  the 
separation ;  but  oh,  Sybil,  if  by  any  possible  casuistry  to 
yourself  you  could  overcome  this  strange  repugnance,  if 
you  could  reason  yourself  into  loving  Albert  Linwood, 
do  it,  or  if  you  will,  only  promise  t<£be  his,  trusting  that 
a  holy  love  will  be  the  result  of  a  union  so  well  assorted. 
It  would  be  a  ray  of  light  in  Richard's  dark  path,  it 
would  somewhat  repay  him  " 


252  Vernon  Grove. 

"  Hush,"  said  Sybil  in  an  excited  tone,  "  you  need  not 
remind  me  of  that  again,  it  is  too  deeply  graven  on  my 
heart." 

Isabel  tried  to  calm  her  by  words  of  affection,  but  her 
syllables  seemed  to  fall  on  deaf  ears,  and  she  paced  the 
room  to  and  fro,  and  muttered  to  herself  as  if  really  try- 
ing to  reason  herself  into  obedience. 

"  You  will  weary  yourself,"  said  Isabel  at  last,  trying 
to  detain  her  in  her  hurried  walk,  "be  seated,  and  let  us 
talk  the  matter  over  calmly." 

"  Calmly  !  Is  it  a  subject  for  calmness  ?  Use  no  false 
terms  if  you  please,  Mrs.  Clayton ;  let  us  look  at  the 
thing  as  it  is.  Ah,  it  is  the  darkest  night  and  hour  that 
ever  came  to  my  poor  storm-tossed  soul !  Be  you  seated ; 
touch  me  not ;  speak  not ;  move  not ;  only  for  five  mi- 
nutes let  me  see  what  port  is  nearest — what  safest  for  a 
shipwrecked  life." 

Mrs.  Clayton  obeyed  these  strange  passionate  words 
of  Sybil's  like  a  feeble  child,  frightened  at  her  mood, 
but  still  feeling  that  hers  was  not  the  power  to  quell 
that  nervous  excitement.  Suddenly  she  stopped  before 
Isabel,  clasped  her  hands  to  her  wildly-beating  heart,  as 
if  to  end  its  quick  pulsations  before  she  spoke,  and  then, 
deliberately  and  calmly,  and  with  nothing  but  a  slight 
quivering  of  her  lip  to  show  that  any  emotion  lay  be- 
neath  her  freezing  words,  she  addressed  her  companion  : 

"Is  Mr.  Linwood  still  below?  You  left  him  there, 
you  say;  is  it  possible  that  he  may  not  yet  have 
gone  ?"  « 

"  He  is  still  with  Mr.  Clayton,"  answered  Isabel ;  "  he 
said  that  he  would  not  leave  immediately,  thinking  that 
you  might  return  to  say  good  night." 


Vernon  Grove.  2O 

"  Then  go  to  him  and  tell  him  that  I  cannot  come 
down  again  to-night ;  tell  him,  too,  not  to  think  of  going 
to  Europe,  so  far  from  Mr.  Vernon's  presence,  because 
I  promise  to  do  as  he  wishes  and  to  be  his  wife." 

Motionless  she  stood,  almost  too  still  for  life ;  more 
like  death  was  her  fixed  and  stony  gaze. 

"  Are  you  sure  ?"  began  Isabel,  almost  doubting  the 
evidence  of  her  senses  at  hearing  this  plain  and  clear 
avowal. 

"  Ah,  yes,  I  am  sure,"  interrupted  Sybil,  in  the  same 
strange  tone,  and  as  if  wearied  with  the  interview.  Then 
she  gently  led  Isabel  from  the  room  as  if  to  prevent  fur- 
ther words. 

"  I  will  return,  dearest,  to  tell  you  what  effect  this 
rapturous  intelligence  has  upon  Albert — whether  he 
keeps  his  senses  or  falls  into  madness  from  pure  joy." 

"  No,  that  you  must  not  do ;  I  do  not  doubt  your 
wonderful  powers  either  of  persuasion  or  description, 
but  I  would  be  alone  this  night." 

Isabel  had  gained  quite  enough,  almost  more  than  she 
had  calculated  upon.  She  heard  Sybil  close  the  door 
and  lock  it,  and  then  with  a  bounding  step  and  a  face  as 
radiant  as  the  morning,  she  went  with  the  glad  tidings 
to  Albert. 

Poor  Sybil ;  the  perfume  of  the  brilliant  exotic  sick- 
ened her  ;  the  weight  of  the  whole  world  seemed  crush- 
ing her — the  room  was  reeling — her  strength  forsook 
her — and  she  fell  fainting  upon  her  couch  ;  but  ere  her 
consciousness  quite  departed,  mad  words  of  anguish 
burst  from  her  lips  ; — they  were  few,  but  they  told  all. 

"  Oh,  my  God,  it  is  over ;  the  sacrifice  is  completed, 
and  he  is  repaid." 


254  Vernon  Grove. 

(  Is  there  no  experience  similar  to  this  ?  Has  no  other 
pillow  on  the  first  night  of  a  betrothal  been  wet  with 
tcMi-s?)  Are  there  no  forced  or  interested  marriages 
which  crush  young  hearts  to  the  very  earth  ?  Are  there 
no  hours  following  a  plighted  troth,  where,  instead  of 
happy  dreams,  groans  and  sobs  have- arisen  in  the  dark 
silent  midnight  ?  Ah,  yes,  many  a  one  whom  circum- 
stances have  pressed  into  a  marriage  without  love,  could 
tell  you  that  such  things  are. 

And  yet  it  was  Sybil's  own  voluntary  act ;  so  is  it  a 
martyr's  choice  to  be  broken  upon  the  wheel. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

COME   AND   GONE. 

"  "Within  those  words  how  deep  a  meaning  lies — 

A  ray  of  light,  a  gloom  ; 
A.  ray  as  bright  as  summer  evening  skies, 
A  darkness  like  the  tomb. 

Yes,  thou  didst  come  like  beam  of  evening  star, 

That,  gleaming  on  the  night, 
One  moment  sent  its  treasured  ray  afar, 

And  then  was  lost  to  sight. 

Couldst  thou  not  stay  to  glad  our  home  a  while, 

Our  home  so  reft  and  lone, 
To  light  our  pathway  with  thy  tender  smile, 

To  cheer  us  with  thy  tone  ? 

No ;  by  the  truth  that  so  bereaves  my  heart, 

The  sorrow  deeply  shown, 
I  feel  that  we  have  only  met  to  part, 

That  thou  hast  Come  and  Gone" 

CAROLINE  HOWARD. 

IT  would  be  almost  a  vain  attempt  to  describe  Vernon's 
calm  happiness  when,  upon  reflection,  he  mused  upon 
Isabel's  letter.  A  new  impulse  to  live  and  be  happy, 
spite  of  his  blindness,  was  given  him.  He  thought  first 
of  Sybil's  rejection  of  one  who,  as  Isabel  had  written, 
was  in  every  way  worthy  of  her,  and  it  left  him  a  hope 
that  she  might,  unspoiled  by  the  fascinations  of  a  city 
life,  be  content  to  return  to  his  more  quiet  home,  and  he 


256  Vernon  Grove. 

revolved  new  plans  in  his  mind  to  render  that  home 
more  attractive  to  her  than  it  had  ever  been.  He  sent  for 
fresh  luxuries  and  choice  pictures ;  he  had  a  garden  laid 
out  which  he  called  Sybil's,  and  into  which  nothing  but 
the  rarest  plants  were  to  find  entrance ;  and  as  it  was 
Sybil's  delight  daily  to  arrange  tasteful  bouquets  in  every 
available  nook  and  corner  in  the  house,  he  ordered  a 
variety  of  vases  to  be  purchased,  of  antique  forms  and 
exquisite  designs,  blending  poetry  and  sculpture,  so  that 
she  might  take  renewed  pleasure  in  her  favorite  occupa- 
tion. 

He  even  personally  gave  orders  for  a  thorough  remo- 
delling of  Sybil's  own  apartment,  decorating  it  with  a  car- 
pet which  was  more  like  an  exquisite  painting  than  a 
combination  of  woollen  colors,  while  her  pretty  furniture 
was  replaced  by  another  set  of  a  unique  and  elegant  de- 
sign, in  which,  as  in  all  that  was  the  result  of  Vernon's 
taste  and  judgment,  might  be  traced  an  idea  of  the  beau- 
tiful rather  than  the  showy.  Nor  was  the  smallest  par- 
ticular neglected  in  the  new  arrangement ;  and  now  that 
he  knew  the  shade  of  Sybil's  complexion  from  Isabel's 
description,  arid  that  her  hair  was  blonde  and  her  eyes 
of  the  tenderest  blue,  he  exchanged  the  hangings  in  her 
apartment  for  other  drapery,  so  that  it  might  lend  to  the 
beauty  of  the  fair  occupant  its  harmonizing  and  subdu- 
ing tone.  Then  he  reserved  a  place  for  the  books  which 
she  loved,  and  further  ornamented  the  room  with  exqui- 
site and  costly  articles  of  vertu. 

These  seemingly  unimportant  details  interested  him 
more  than  he  might  have  been  willing  to  confess,  but 
they  were  for  Aer,  to  give  her  pleasure,  and  this  was  ex- 
cuse enough  to  himself.  Then  when  all  was  completed, 


Vernon  Grove.  257 

and  the  old  housekeeper  had  declared  her  approbation 
of  the  change,  and  had  wondered  what  Sybil  would  do 
and  say  when  she  should  first  enter  that  enchanting 
chamber,  he,  too,  grew  restlessly  curious  to  know  what 
her  first  impressions  would  be,  and  he  was  more  impa- 
tient for  her  return  than  ever.  And  yet  somewhat  re- 
signed had  he  become  to  her  absence,  for  a  definite  time 
was  fixed  upon  for  its  duration,  and  before  long  he  knew 
he  should  stand  in  her  very  presence  and  be  contented 
once  more,  and  counting  the  hours  and  minutes  seemed 
to  take  away  from  them  half  their  length. 

Then  another  object  of  pleasing  contemplation  to  him 
was  the  idea  of  meeting  Albert  Lin  wood ;  of  taking  that 
true  honest  hand  once  more  within  his  own ;  of  hearing 
his  voice  ;  of  knowing  that  he  was  near  him  once  more 
after  so  many  years  of  absence,  in  which  everything  had 
changed  but  their  love  for  each  other.  What  a  bright 
picture  the  blind  man  painted  in  his  mind — Sybil  at  home 
again,  cultivating  her  flowers,  singing,  or  learning  some 
new  lesson  from  his  lips,  while  seated  as  of  yore  at  his 
feet,  happy  in  his  praise,  yet  grateful  for  his  chiding  if 
she  in  the  smallest  particular  deserved  it ;  Albert  seated 
with  them,  his  conversation  a  rich  treat  as  he  discoursed 
upon  what  he  had  seen  in  that  far  journey,  and  his  cha- 
racter doubly  interesting,  now  that  he  had  added  to  his 
other  experiences  the  ennobling  passion  of  a  worthy 
love ;  and  Vernon  himself,  blind  it  is  true  to  Sybil's  lov- 
liness  and  Albert's  face  radiant  with  happiness,  but  still 
contented  at  last  under  his  terrible  and  irremediable 
affliction. 

It  was  the  first  really  healthy  view  that  Vernon  had 
taken  of  his  own  troubles.  He  raised  his  head  once 


258  Vernon  Grove. 

more  from  the  drooping  posture  which  it  was  beginning 
to  assume,  with  something  like  the  hope  of  his  old  life  in 
his  face  and  form ;  snatches  of  gay  song,  memories  of 
sweet  passages  of  poetry  burst  from  his  lips ;  he  had 
turned  over  a  new  leaf  in  the  book  of  existence ;  the 
very  air  which  he  breathed  was  more  buoyant  and  wel- 
come to  him ;  he  seemed  to  feel  that  the  sunshine  came 
in  at  the  door  where  Sybil  used  to  sit  and  listen  to  his 
songs,  not  as  it  had  come  in  her  absence,  in  a  long  line 
of  unmeaning  yellow  light,  but  with  glowing  dancing 
rays,  and  he  loved  to  draw  his  chair  to  the  spot  where 
she  had  passed  so  many  of  her  twilight  hours  ere  he 
knew  the  value  of  her  whom  he  was  entertaining  una- 
wares, and  to  feel  their  warming  and  cheering  influence, 
and  imagine  that  each  ripple  of  gold  as  it  reached  him 
brought  a  special  message  telling  of  her  return. 

But  the  sunlight  was  unchanged,  the  earth  and  the 
air  alike  the  same ;  the  only  alteration  was  the  happy 
one  in  his  own  happy  heart  ;  but  we,  who  have  the  privi- 
lege of  looking  into  other  hearts,  know  too  well  how  ill- 
founded  this  security  of  content  was,  and  how  the  beau- 
Jiful  picture  that  Vernon  had  painted  was  sketched  only 
upon  the  shadowy  and  evanescent  clouds. 

We  left  Sybil  crushed  and  alone,  and  Isabel  speeding 
upon  her  mission  of  joy.  It  wras  enough  for  Albert  to 
know  that  she  had  been  won  without  asking  how  and 
why.  He  was  quite  satisfied  with  the  garbled  ingenious 
statement  which  Isabel  made.  Love  such  as  his  never 
reasons.  Like  one  intoxicated  with  happiness  he  called 
Isabel  his  good  angel,  and  besought  her  to  ask  Sybil  but 
for  one  moment  to  return  to  him,  so  that  he  might  by  a 
single  word  or  look  express  his  gratitude,  but  she  was 


Vernon  Grove.  259 

inexorable,  knowing  full  well  that  Sybil  could  not  just 
yet  have  borne  his  presence,  nor  did  she  wish  to  subject 
her  to  it,  remembering  the  mood  in  which  she  had  left 
her,  and  that  the  cord  drawn  too  tightly  might  snap  if 
but  touched  with  a  feather's  w^eight.  Therefore  she 
silenced  Albert's  eloquence  by  bidding  him  good  night 
and  wishing  him  pleasant  dreams,  while  he,  smiling  in- 
credulously at  the  thought  of  his  losing  that  blessed  state 
of  happiness  in  unconscious  slumber,  he,  who  would  not 
be  able  to  sleep  for  joy,  departed  with  a  promise  of  an 
early  visit  on  the  morrow. 

After  a  brief  unconsciousness,  Sybil  awoke  to  h'fe  and 
its  miseries  and  the  new  part  which  now  devolved  upon 
her  to  play.  She  longed  for  sleep,  and  it  came  to  her 
like  a  gentle  mother  with  a  soothing  melody  for  the 
weary  child,  and  calmed  the  fever  in  her  frame  and  the 
wild  throbbing  in  her  head; — her  last  free  sleep  she 
seemed  to  feel  that  it  was,  for  on  the  morrow  Albert 
would  have  a  right  to  know  her  very  dreams. 

She  arose  early  the  next  day,  and  seeking  Isabel,  ex- 
pressed her  desire  to  return  to  Vernon  Grove.  Vernon 
would  scarcely  expect  her  to  avail  herself  of  his  kind- 
ness to  remain  away  another  month ;  it  was  but  right 
and  proper,  she  said,  under  the  new  relations  in  which 
she  found  herself,  to  go  at  once  and  acquaint  him  that 
she  had  done  his  bidding  to  the  utmost ;  she  knew  of 
no  other  reason  why  he  should  have  wished  her  to  stay 
except  that  she  might  return  as  Mr.  Lin  wood's  affianced 
wife,  and  as  the  "  first  wish  of  his  heart"  was  granted, 
she  presumed  that  she  might  now  return. 

Sybil  spoke  bitterly  and  with  a  crushed  and  broken 
spirit,  but  Isabel  was  not  moved ;  there  was  something 


260  Vernon  Grove. 

yet  to  be  done,  the  drama  was  as  yet  incomplete,  nor 
must  the  curtain  fall  before  she  had  performed  her  part 
an<l  won  the  applause  and  gratitude  of  Florence.  It  did 
not  suit  her  to  have  Sybil  leave  her  just  yet,  and  she 
reminded  her  of  her  promise,  so  willingly  granted,  to 
remain  another  month ;  and  when  Sybil  said,  in  a  strange 
tone  of  voice,  that  promises  ought  not  to  be  held  sacred 
with  one  so  vile  as  she,  one  who  had  forgotten  what  it 
was  to  be  true,  Isabel  told  her  decidedly  that  it  was  not 
convenient  for  her  to  return  at  present,  making  some 
trivial  and  yet  plausible  excuse  about  the  carriage  which 
was  to  take  her  back  to  Vernon  Grove. 

Thus  even  the  change  and  excitement  of  the  journey 
were  denied  Sybil ;  she  was  completely  wretched,  and 
looked  in  vain  for  that  approving  inward  sense  of  right 
which  she  knew  followed  the  pursuance  of  duty.  She 
longed  for  the  solitude  of  the  woods  where  she  had  ever 
carried  her  childish  troubles  and  had  found  sympathy 
amid  their  shades ;  she  longed  for  the  tones  of  Vernon's 
voice,  as  well  as  for  his  written  words  which  Isabel  had 
told  her  of,  to  say  that  she  had  done  as  he  desired.  She 
felt  the  need  of  applause  as  much  as  an  actress  who  has 
strained  every  nerve  to  perform  her  assumed  character, 
and  thought,  mistakenly  perhaps,  that  could  he  only 
appear  to  her  then  and  there,  and  say  to  her,  as  he  had 
often  done  when  she  had  performed  tasks  which  she 
thought  difficult  once,  but  oh,  how  easy  now — "  Sybil, 
child,  you  have  done  well,"  that  the  tangled  way  would 
seem  clearer  to  her  weary  footsteps. 

Twice  she  sat  down  to  write  to  Vernon,  but  that 
terrible  third  person,  who  was  so  necessary  to  him, 
would  know  all,  and  so  it  was  denied  her  to  tell  him 


Vernon  Grove.  261 

that  she  had  obeyed  him  like  a  faithful  child  to  the 
last. 

Then  her  mood  changed,  and  from  that  nervous  and 
feverish  state  she  settled  into  apathy  and  was  indifferent 
to  all  around.  If  Isabel  spoke  to  her  and  counselled  her 
to  wear  a  brighter  face  for  Albert,  whom  she  expected 
momently,  she  simply  said  that  it  was  impossible,  that 
Vernon  had  not  advised  her  as  regarded  the  expression 
which  she  must  assume,  and  that  otherwise  she  had  ful- 
filled his  commands  to  the  very  letter;  and  so,  like  one 
wrought  up  to  undergo  any  amount  of  mental  suffering, 
she  awaited  Albert's  coming. 

It  was  only  the  old  story  over  again,  a  hand  without 
a  heart, — and  who  so  blind  as  he  who  loves?  Calmly 
she  listened  to  his  rapturous  words ;  patiently  she 
received  those  caresses  of  his  which  raised  him  to  un- 
dreamed of  happiness ;  silently  she  heard  his  plans  for 
the  future  in  which  she  now  formed  the  prominent  part. 
For  her  to  say  that  she  loved  him,  he  yet  neither  asked 
nor  required,  and  this  delicacy  on  his  part  so  touched 
Sybil  that  she  made  a  resolution,  asking  Heaven's  aid,  to 
try  with  every  effort  in  her  power  to  return  his  affection, 
but  until  that  time  came  she  was  glad  to  feel  that  he 
asked  for  no  passionate  declarations  of  love  on  her  part, 
but  was  content  to  sit  holding  her  hand  and  gazing  in 
her  eyes,  satisfied  that  she  was  his  own.  It  was  in  such 
hours  as  these  that  all  the  secrets  of  his  noble  heart 
became  hers;  he  told  her  of  his  faults,  his  aspirations; 
he  exhibited  to  her  his  deeply  religious  nature  and  his 
dependence  upon  a  higher  power  for  all  the  blessings  of 
life  while  he  bent  resignedly  bcneatli  its  discipline.  He 
dwelt  long  and  ardently  upon  his  love  for  the  occupation 


262  Vernon  Grove. 

which  he  had  chosen  and  which  kept  him  always  so  fully 
alive  to  what  was  beautiful  in  art  and  nature  ;  and  one 
day  he  brought  her  the  picture  that  had  led  him  to  fame, 
his  Inspiration,  which  he  had  promised  as  a  gift  to 
Vernon,  and  he  told  her,  now  that  she  whom  it  so 
resembled  was  all  his  own,  he  was  content  to  yield  it  up 
to  another.  Then  he  dwelt  eloquently  upon  the  coin- 
cidence of  this  his  ideal  of  all  that  was  lovely  being  so 
much  like  her ;  heaven  had  guided  his  hand,  he  said,  as 
heaven  had  guided  his  heart. 

Bu  ;  t  last  Sybil's  strength  was  overtasked.  It  was 
one  evening  when  the  chilly  winds  of  winter  came,  and 
the  rustling  of  the  withered  leaves,  reminding  her  of  the 
forest  winds  and  leaves  of  Vernon  Grove.  Unmindful 
of  the  cold,  she  had  sought  that  marble  sylvan  temple 
where,  not  many  weeks  before,  she  had  breathed  so 
freely  and  happily,  and  in  its  shelter  she  hoped  to  find 
the  solitude  which  she  so  much  needed.  Everything 
told  of  a  wintry  frost,  and  though  careful  hands  had 
been  busied  to  preserve  the  beauty  of  the  gardens,  they 
could  not  prevent  the  unceasing,  fall  of  the  dry  dead 
leaves,  nor  make  the  sluggish  fountain  flow,  nor  give  an 
appearance  of  warmth  to  the  chill  glistening  marble. 

Sybil  sat  down  and  bowed  her  head  in  her  hands  with 
such  a  spirit  of  loneliness,  such  a  desolate  sense  of  home- 
sickness, that  she  felt  as  if  her  young  heart  must  break. 

It  was  here  and  thus  that  Albert  found  her,  and  draw- 
ing her  hands  from  her  face  he  chid  her  gently  for 
seeking  the  cold  outer  air  instead  of  the  glowing  flame 
within  the  house.  But  the  only  answer  that  Sybil  vouch- 
safed was  a  passionate  flow  of  tears. 

"Are  you  not  happy,  dearest?"  he  asked  anxious! v: 


Vernon  Grove.  263 

"  am  I  not  worthy  of  you  ?  do  you  need  a  more  devoted 
love  than  mine  ?" 

Sybil  still  wept  wildly,  and  Albert  drawing  her  head 
upon  his  bosom  pillowed  it  there,  and  awaited  anxiously 
for  some  word  of  explanation  from  her  whose  single  tear 
was  a  source  of  anxiety  to  him.  It  was  the  place  above 
all  others  where,  if  'she  needed  comfort  and  if  she  had 
loved  him,  she  would  have  found  it,  but  raising  herself 
and  rejecting  the  proffered  resting-place,  she  looked  with 
tearful  eyes  into  his  and  spoke. 

"  I  confess  it,"  she  said  "  I  do  not  feel  happy,  and  it 
must  seem  to  you  ungrateful  to  hear  me  say  it,  but  I 
cannot  help  it.  I  have  given  you  my  esteem  and  respect 
and  you  said  that  you  would  wait  patiently  for  my  love 
to  come.  Your  devotion  should  have  touched  my  cold 
hard  heart  and  melted  it  ere  this,  but  I  suppose  that  the 
time  will  come,  yes,  it  must,  when  I  can  repay  you  better 
for  your  love  than  I  do  at  this  moment ;  but,  oh,  Albert, 
just  now,  just  for  a  little  while,  look  upon  me  as  a  poor 
weak  child  and  treat  me  like  one,  and  let  me  go  back  at 
once  into  the  country.  I  know  not  why  I  am  thus  dis- 
pirited and  so  unlike  my  former  self,  unless  it  be  that  I 
have  led  this  artificial  city  life  too  long,  and  it  seems  to 
me  that  a  purer  air  and  the  free,  free  woods  in  which  I 
was  born  would  restore  me  to  something  of  my  native 
cheerfulness.  Here  I  know  that  I  shall  distress  you  by 
this  weary  listless  spirit,  here,"  she  added,  with  sudden 
energy,  "  I  feel  that  I  must  die." 

Why  did  he  not  see  it  all  before  ?  he  asked  himself, 
why  did  he  not  read  her  thoughts  and  discover  how  little 
the  sweet  wood  violet  could  flourish  out  of  its  own  pure 
atmosphere.  He  hastened  to  Isabel  and  urged  her  to 


264  Vernon  Grove. 

send  Sybil  back  to  Vernon  Grove  at  once,  and  the  former 
no  longer  objecting  to  her  going,  acceded  to  his  propo- 
sition, naming  the  day  and  hour  for  Sybil's  departure. 
It  was  not  quite  as  early  as  Albert  could  have  wished, 
for  she  still  wanted  time.  She  no  longer  raised  obstacles 
to  the  leave-taking,  because  now  she  would  go  as  Lin- 
wood's  affianced  wife,  but  some  preliminary  steps  were 
to  be  taken.  She  must  write  to  Vernon  and  let  him 
know  of  Sybil's  return  and  under  what  circumstances  ; — 
this  was  a  delicate  task,  but  her  ingenuity  soon  found  a 
ready  way  to  accomplish  it.  Fortunately  for  the  deve- 
lopment of  her  plans,  she  had  told  Albert  and  Sybil  that 
she  would  herself  write  and  acquaint  Vernon  of  their 
engagement,  and  she  congratulated  herself  upon  wait- 
ing until  the  precise  and  most  auspicious  moment  had 
arrived. 

When  Albert  left  her,  she  sat  down  and  penned  a  few 
hurried  words  to  Vernon,  duly  approved  of  by  Florence, 
and  with  which  she  herself  was  satisfied  as  a  master- 
stroke of  policy,  and  though  she  knew  that  the  shock  must 
be  a  great  one  to  her  brother  when  the  intelligence  first 
reached  him,  still  it  must  exonerate  her  from  all  blame  in 
his  estimation.  Those  hurried  lines  were  the  following : 

"  DEAK  RICHARD  : 

'•  Who  can  foretell  the  future  ?  Albert  Linwood  has  selected  a  bride, 
as  I  forewarned  you,  but  you  will  be  astonished  to  hear  that  his  affi- 
anced is  Sybil  Gray,  astonished  and  delighted  both,  for  she  is  the  child 
of  your  adoption  and  he  the  brother  of  your  love.  You  must  expect 
to  see  Sybil  in  the  early  part  of  next  week ;  Albert  will  follow  her  a 
day  or  two  after  her  departure,  when  you  can  judge  for  yourself  how 
certain  it  is,  that  with  their  congenial  ages,  tastes,  and  dispositions, 
they  will  be  happy  in  their  united  lives. 

"  As  ever,  your  loving  ISABEL." 


Vernon  Grove.  265 

It  was  well  that  Yernon's  servant,  who  read  this  abrupt 
epistle,  not  in  the  least  suspecting  the  agony  it  inflicted, 
immediately  left  the  room  to  give  notice  that  Miss  Gray 
was  soon  expected  back,  an  event  which  caused  the  whole 
household,  as  well  as  himself,  who  had  now  risen  by  his 
devotion  to  Vernon's  interest  into  a  humble  friend,  great 
rejoicing,  for  Sybil  was  beloved  by  all. 

It  was  well  that  in  his  presence  Vernon  had  command 
over  himself,  for  no  sooner  had  he  departed  than  his  old 
enemy,  unrestrained  passion,  burst  forth ;  he  felt  struck 
as  with  lightning,  not  dead,  that  would  have  been  best, 
lie  thought,  but  scathed  as  with  liquid  fire ;  the  bitterest 
curses  issued  from  his  lips,  and  he  hurled  upon  the  head 
of  the  child  whom  he  had  love  I  so  tenderly  and  upon 
the  friend  whom  he  had  cherished,  maledictions  deep 
and  strong. 

His  life  all  lonely,  his  hopes  all  blasted,  wronged  as  he 
deemed  it  by  his  friend,  forsaken  by  Sybil,  he  was  reckless. 

Suddenly  seizing  a  pen  which  he  knew  lay  upon  the 
table,  and  with  which  he  had  often  employed  himself  in 
forming  characters  since  his  blindness,  he  wrote  a  few 
words  to  Sybil  and  folded  the  letter,  then  calling  John, 
he  bade  him  direct,  seal,  and  forward  it  without  delay, 
feeling  a  fierce  satisfaction  in  what  he  had  done,  and  yet 
succeeding  well  in  preserving  an  outward  calm  before 
his  servant. 

Sybil  was  luckily  alone  when  she  received  the  letter. 
At  first  she  did  not  understand  its  cruel  meaning,  and 
then  when  she  spelled  out  the  strange  words,  and  their 
significance  broke  upon  her  with  its  full  force,  she  would 
have  fainted  had  she  not  felt  that  she  had  need  of  all  her 
self-possession,  for  a  battle  was  before  her  which  she  would 
12 


266  Vernon  Grove. 

be  obliged  to  fight  alone,  knowing  that  what  such  a  man 
as  Vernon  had  written  she  must  abide  by  then  and  for 
ever. 

The  few  terrible  words  ran  thus — they  were  scarcely 
legible,  but  too  truly  were  they  written  there — 

1:  Sybil,  the  blind  can  write  under  some  circumstances,  and  a  few 
lines  will  convey  to  you  what  I  design  to  say.  Your  aunt  Mary,  no 
doubt,  will  receive  you,  for  this  cannot  be  a  home  to  you  again ;  you 
must  come  to  Vernon  Grove  never  more. 

"  RICHARD  VERXOX." 

If  she  had  known  what  she  had  done  to  provoke  his 
anger,  if  he  had  only  enlightened  her  as  to  the  extent  of 
her  delinquency,  she  could  have  borne  better  that  dreadful 
mandate  of  banishment  even  though  she  had  been  accused 
•wrongfully,  but  he  had  shut  the  door  to  everything  like 
an  explanation  and  only  time  would  reveal  to  him 
the  wrong  that  he  had  inflicted  upon  her.  But  perhaps 
she  deserved  it,  she  thought.  Then  at  this  suggestion, 
with  a  scrutiny  which  gave  herself  no  mercy  and  spared 
not  her  slightest  fault,  she  examined  her  words  and  acts 
for  the  past  two  months,  and  still  she  could  find  nothing 
very  blamable  in  her  conduct,  not  even  any  inconsisten- 
cies too  flagrant  for  forgiveness  on  his  part. 

To  Yernon's  sister  she  felt  that  she  must  not  complain  ; 
what  right  had  she  to  intrude  herself  upon  Isabel's  home 
and  protection,  when  her  brother  had  discarded  her  as 
too  unworthy  to  find  a  shelter  beneath  his  roof!  No, 
some  other  plan  must  be  thought  of. 

Xext,  the  idea  occurred  to  her  of  writing  to  Vernon 
and  humbly  asking  where  her  offence  lay,  and  desiring 
pardon  for  any  omission  or  commission  on  her  part,  but  his 


Vernon  Grove.  267 

having  written  himself,  seemed  to  be  proof  conclusive  that 
he  did  not  wish  another  to  share  the  mystery,  whatever 
it  was,  and  she  did  not  dwell  long  upon  that  thought 
because  of  its  impracticability.  She  must  act  as  though 
Richard  Vernon  who  had  so  often  laid  his  hand  upon  her 
head  and  promised  her  protection  through  the  storms 
of  life,  were  dead  to  her,  or  had  thrust  her  from  his 
world. 

Then  to  have  asked  consolation  or  sympathy  from 
Albert,  feeling  as  thus  towards  him,  she  could  not,  would 
not ;  so  turn  where  she  would,  like  a  poor  wounded  hare 
pressed  hard  on  all  sides  by  its  pursuers,  she  stood 
stationary  for  an  instant  with  a  glare  almost  of  insanity 
in  her  eyes,  looking  around  to  see  if  there  was  no  way 
of  escape,  through  tangled  wood,  or  fern,  or  deep  waters, 
or  burning  fields.  Had  she  paused  long  in  that  unprofit- 
able survey  it  would  literally  have  maddened  her,  and  so 
at  once  seeking  Isabel  she  told  her  as  calmly  as  she  could 
that  she  would  avail  herself  of  her  kindness,  and  instead 
of  going  to  the  Grove,  she  would  pay  a  vist  to  her  aunt, 
whom  she  had  not  seen  since  her  early  childhood.  Isabel 
thinking  this  arrangement  natural  enough,  and  supposing 
that  Vernon  would  send  for  her  there,  readily  acceded 
to  Sybil's  washes,  and  little  deemed  that  under  that  calm 
cold  exterior  a  human  heart  was  bleeding. 

Then  came  the  parting  with  all  who  had  been  kind  to 
the  gentle  girl.  Her  consideration  always  won  the  love 
and  respect  of  domestics,  and  as  they  gathered  round 
it  was  a  sad  trial  to  her  to  hear  their  words  of  sorrow  at 
the  thought  of  losing  her,  or  some  chance  allusion  to 
Linwood,  for  their  relation  to  each  other  was  generally 
known,  and  though  couched  in  respectful  terms,  the 


268  Vernon  Grove. 

simple  wish  of  a  long  and  happy  life  and  a  pleasant 
journey  with  her  chosen  companion  to  the  end,  failed 
to  bring  the  smile  which  they  tried  to  call  to  her  lips. 

Next  followed  her  farewell  to  Clayton  ;  if  he  could 
have  loved  anything  but  his  wife  and  the  constant 
accumulation  of  gain,  he  must  have  loved  Sybil,  for  she 
had  left  the  impress  of  her  pure  and  beautiful  spirit  upon 
his  household,  but  his  heart  was  hardened  to  anything  like 
affection  beyond  his  contracted  sphere,  and  a  hurried 
"  good-by  "  was  all  that  he  vouchsafed  her.  Afterwards 
she  turned  to  Isabel,  looking  to  her,  at  least,  who  had 
taken  such  an  interest  in  her  fate,  for  some  deep  emotion 
now  that  she  was  about  to  leave  her,  but  she,  feeling 
somewhat  conscience-stricken  at  the  sight  of  that  pale 
suffering  face,  affected  an  air  of  levity  which  served  to 
deaden  her  self-reproach  and  Sybil  turned  away  from 
her  heartless  adieu  to  meet  what  she  most  dreaded, 
Florence's  scornful  bearing.  Delicacy  might  have  kept 
her  away,  knowing  that  Sybil  could  feel  no  affection  for 
one  who  scarcely  made  a  secret  of  one  day  hoping  to 
take  her  place  at  Vernon  Grove ;  but  curiosity  prevailed, 
she  wanted  to  see  the  last  of  her  rival  who  was  now  so 
surely  removed  from  her  path. 

She  was  more  regal  than  ever,  Sybil  thought,  and  that 
queen-like  bearing  became  her  well ;  her  lips  were  blandly 
smiling,  but  her  eyes  were  gleaming  with  a  cruel  light, 
an  assumption  of  power,  which  lit  up  her  face  with  a 
wondrous  beauty. 

Sybil  extended  her  hand  and  looked  deprecatingly 
towards  her  as  though  silently  asking  her  not  to  kill  one 
so  crushed  already,  with  a  word  of  unkiudness,  but 
Florence,  in  the  height  of  her  pride  and  consciousness 


Vernon  Grove.  269 

of  success,  like  a  tiger  watching  her  prey,  still  kept  her 
basilisk  eyes  fastened  upon  her  and  heeded  not  her 
beseeching  glance. 

"  I  suppose,"  she  said,  touching  Sybil's  hand  with  the 
tips  of  her  long  slender  fingers,  "that  when  we  pay 
another  visit  to  Vernon  Grove,  as  we  intend  to,  Mr. 
Linwood  will  have  claimed  you  as  his  bride,  and  Mr. 
Vernon  will  be  our  sole  entertainer.  We  shall  miss  the 
little  songstress,  who  entertained  us,  and  should  we  go 
upon  an  expedition  to  the  Cave,  we  shall  feel  sadly  in 
wrant  of  some  one  to  get  up  an  exciting  scene." 

"  Would  to  God  I  had  died  in  that  gloomy  cavern," 
thought  Sybil,  but  she  only  murmured  some  common- 
place words  in  reply,  and  passed  out  to  the  carriage  where 
Albert  was  waiting  to  arrange  her  furs  comfortably,  and 
to  utter  some  low  tender  words  at  parting,  which  Sybil 
scarcely  heard  or  understood. 

"Expect  me  soon  dearest,"  he  whispered,  "I  shall 
hasten  from  Vernon  Grove  as  soon  as  I  possibly  can  after 
my  visit  to  Richard,  and  see  you  at  your  aunt's,  for  where 
you  are  not,  there  is  no  happiness  for  me." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Sybil,  looking  up  with  a  strange 
almost  idiotic  smile.  She  felt  called  upon  to  say  some- 
thing, she  did  not  exactly  know  what,  and  the  carriage 
moved  off  with  its  sad  and  weary  occupant. 

It  was  a  long,  long  drive,  and  before  many  miles  were 
passed  the  rain  came  down  in  a  steady  drizzle,  and  the 
cold  wind  moaned  through  the  branches  of  the  trees. 

"  Better  thus,"  thought  Sybil,  "  than  the  gay,  happy, 
mocking  sunshine." 

The  carriage  reached  the  humble  cottage  door,  and 
Sybil  alighted  and  entered.  A  staid  woman,  with  placid 


2jo  Vernon  Grove. 

face,  and  her  grey  hair  combed  smoothly  upon  her  un- 
wrinkled  brow,  sat  by  the  fire  intently  engaged  in  knit- 
ting. So  passionless  an  aspect  had  she,  so  mechanical 
were  her  movements,  so  busy  was  she  in  her  occupation 
— as  though  life  had  no  other  work  for  her  to  do — that 
a  looker-on  might  have  said  she  had  traversed  the  stormy 
waves  of  existence,  and  had  now  emerged  into  a  calm 
open  sea,  where  not  even  the  memory  of  the  past  re- 
mained to  her  to  disturb  the  serenity  of  her  look;  or,  if 
passions  were  beneath  that  calm  exterior,  or  had  memory 
ploughed  deep  furrows  in  her  soul,  she  had  learned  the 
art  of  keeping  them  subjected  to  her  will  and  out  of  the 
sight  of  others. 

She  did  not  hear  Sybil's  step,  nor  know  of  her  pre- 
sence until  she  felt  a  hand  upon  her  shoulder,  and  a  most 
musical  voice  speaking  close  to  her  ear. 

"  Dear  aunt  Mary,"  said  she,  "  I  have  come  to  live 
with  you,  if  you  will  let  me ;  you  remember  Sybil,  whom 
you  called  your  pet  once,  when  she  was  a  little  child  ?  I 
am  strong,  and  shall  not  be  much  of  a  burden  to  you, 
for  I  can  help  you  work ; — will  you  let  me  come  ?" 

The  kind-hearted  woman  arose  at  once,  and  gazing  a 
moment  intently  at  Sybil,  brushed  away  a  few  tears  as 
she  saw  her  brother's  features  reflected  in  his  child's, 
then  kissing  her,  she  bade  her  welcome,  took  off  her 
bonnet,  chafed  her  cold  hands  until  they  were  warm, 
threw  an  additional  stick  upon  the  fire,  which  burned 
brightly  with  a  cheerful  glow,  saw  that  her  trunks  were 
carefully  placed  in  the  little  passage-way,  and  then  sat 
down  with  her  at  the  hearth. 

It  was  all  humble  enough,  but  it  was  a  refuge,  and  a 
home. 


Vernon  Grove.  271 

"  And  so  those  grand  proud  folks  have  forsaken  you," 
at  last  said  the  placid-faced  woman.  "  'Put  not  your  trust 
in  princes,'  says  the  good  book ;  have  they  turned  you 
away,  Sybil,  dear  ?" 

"  They  have,  aunt  Mary." 

Sybil  shivered ;  the  truth  had  not  come  home  to  her 
so  certainly  before  ;  here  was  no  glossing  over  of  words 
— she  had  been  literally  turned  away — forsaken. 

"  You  are  cold,  child,  draw  nearer  yet  to  the  fire." 

"Oh,  no,  I  am  not  cold  now,"  she  answered;  "you 
are  so  kind  and  good,  and  it  is  so  warm  and  comfortable 
here  ;  what  a  pleasant  home  you  have,  dear  aunt  Mary." 
Sybil  felt  what  she  said  spite  of  the  stained  plastering, 
rough  floor,  and  rude  chair  upon  which  she  was 
seated. 

"I  wonder  that  you  think  so,"  returned  her  aunt, 
just  coining  as  you  do  from  the  grand  home  of  a  rich 
man ;  but  you  will  get  here  what  failed  you  there — some 
one  to  love  and  cherish  you  always — some  one  who  will 
not  forsake  you  until  death  takes  her  from  you.  I 
always  thought  that  it  was  a  bad  plan  of  your  grand- 
mother's to  give  up  her  cottage  and  take  you  to  live  at 
Mr.  Vernon's ;  but  what  better  could  we  have  expected 
from  a  soured,  unhappy,  wicked  man  ?" 

"Oh,  no,  not  that — not  the  last,"  answered  Sybil, 
rising  and  laying  her  hand  upon  her  aunt's. 

"  Well,  perhaps  I  may  be  mistaken,"  she  said  less  bit- 
terly, "  but  he  has  done  you  some  wrong — has  he  not, 
darling — that  you  come  from  his  downy  carpets  and  sil- 
ver dishes  to  this  humble  shed  ?" 

Sybil  leant  her  head  against  the  low  mantel,  and  gazed 
dreamily  into  the  fire.  "  He  has  only  told  me  never  to 


272  Vernon  Grove. 

come  to  Vernon  Grove  again,"  she  said  with  a  tremulous 
voice. 

"  Never !  that  is  a  hard  cruel  word,  Sybil." 

"  And  yet  I  loved  him,  God  knows,"  she  said  passion- 
ately ;  "  I  loved  him  in  his  helpless  blindness  as  a  sister 
might  love  a  bi'other.  I  have  been  patient  with  him,  and 
self-denying,  scarcely  allowing  myself  needful  exercise  at 
times ;  then  I  have  watched  and  waited  for  his  faintest 
word,  and  fondly  deemed  that  I  had  won  from  him  a 
brother's  love,  until  this  wretched  day,  when  all  is 
changed.  Oh !  aunt  Mary,  you  know  not  what  I  have 
lost — such  a  friend,  and  such  a  happy,  happy  home. 
If  I  had  been  ungrateful,!  might  have  deserved  it  all ;  but 
I  have  always  tried  to  do  what  would  please  him  best — 
and  not  to  know  why  I  am  banished  is  the  bitterest  pang 
of  all." 

"  Do  not  weep  so  wildly,  dear  Sybil,"  said  her  aunt, 
frightened  at  the  violence  of  her  grief;  "  if  you  have  lost 
one  home,  here  is  another,  humble  though  it  be,  where 
you  and  your  grandmother  will  ever  be  welcome." 

"  I  know  it — I  feel  it,"  was  Sybil's  answer,  "  and  you 
must  not  think  me  repining  or  dissatisfied ;  it  is  so  hard 
to  realize  this  sudden  change — so  hard  to  think  what  she 
will  do  in  her  helplessness  without  me,  and  how  Mr. 
Vernon,  proud  though  he  be,  will  find  his  way  through 
the  tangled  woods,  to  his  favorite  haunts,  without  my 
hand  to  guide  him." 

Her  kind  relative  tried,  by  reasoning  and  comforting, 
to  still  those  passionate  words  of  despair ;  but  in  the 
end  she  let  her  weep  on,  until  at  last,  quite  new  to  sorrow 
such  as  this,  or  indeed  any  sorrow  save  the  terrible 
ordeal  which  she  had  lately  passed  through  in  promising 


Vernon  Grove.  273 

to  be  Albert  Linwood's  wife,  she  accepted,  like  a  poor 
shipwrecked  mariner,  any  aid  that  was  offered — and 
half  kneeling  before  the  glowing  fire,  the  violence  of  her 
grief  seemed  spent,  her  tears  turned  to  occasional  sobs, 
and  pressing  her  hands  hard  over  her  eyes,  she  became 
more  quiet.  Then  the  old  lady  drew  the  child  towards 
her  until  Sybil's  weary  and  aching  head  rested  in  her 
lap.  Soon  Sybil's  sobs  came  less  frequently,  her  breath- 
ing was  more  regular,  her  limbs  relaxed,  her  hands 
dropped  helplessly  from  her  closed  eyes,  and  she  slept 
for  very  sorrow. 

Her  sleep,  if  that  it  could  be  called,  in  which  there  was 
no  rea'  repose,  but  a  succession  of  starts,  and  a  quivering 
of  her  rich  ripe  lips  like  a  grieved  child's,  did  not  con- 
tinue long,  and  she  awoke  with  a  frightened  look  and 
gazed  wildly  around. 

"  I  would  not  think  about  him  any  more,"  said  her 
aunt,  now  finding  it  necessary  to  be  decisive ;  ".forget 
one  who  has  proved  so  cruel,  so  false-hearted." 

"He  is  not  cruel,  not  false-hearted,"  she  answered 
quickly;  "aunt  Mary,  if  you  love  me  you  must  take 
those  words  back." 

"I  cannot  take  them  back,  and  will  not,  either," 
returned  her  aunt,  "  until  you  can  prove  him  otherwise, 
by  letting  me  hear  the  whole  story  ;  sit  down,  Sybil, 
and  tell  me  alj,  so  that  I  may  judge  between  you ;  for 
now  that  he  has  sent  you  away  from  him  into  another 
home — discarded  you,  as  I  understand  you,  without  a 
hearing ;  now  that  you  are  mine,  and  not  his,  I  must 
hear  all." 

Sybil  seated  herself  again,  gathered  up  her  long,  dishe- 
12* 


274  Vernon  Grove. 

veiled  hair  into  something  like  order,  clasped  her  hands 
together,  sighed  deeply,  and  then  began  her  story,  while 
her  aunt  Mary  bent  over  her  knitting-work,  and  the 
polished  needles  clicked  in  their  eternal  round. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

"  How  changed  since  last  her  sparkling  eye 
Glanced  gladness  round  the  glittering  room, 
Where  high-born  men  were  proud  to  wait, 
Where  beauty  watched  to  imitate 
Her  gentle  voice  and  lovely  mien, — 
And  gather  from  her  air  and  gait 
The  graces  of  its  queen." 


"  So  the  dreams  depart, 
So  the  shadows  flee, 
And  the  sharp  reality 
Now  must  act  its  part." 

"WELL,  aunt  Mary,"  Sybil  began,  "  you  know  that  he 
is  very  rich ;  you,  in  your  humble  home  here,  can  scarcely 
realize  what  his  wealth  is,  and  how,  though  he  never  has 
beheld,  and  never  will  behold  all  the  magnificence  at 
Vernon  Grove,  his  inner  spirit  craves  for  whatever  is 
beautiful  and  refined.  You  could  scarcely  understand, 
unless  you  knew  it  and  had  seen  it,  why  it  is  that  he 
cannot  be  happy  unless  he  is  surrounded  with  all  that  is 
most  attractive  in  nature  and  art ;  or  why,  even  though 
blind,  he  knows  just  where  a  picture  ought  to  be  hung 
that  the  lights  may  fall  upon  it  properly,  or  what  groups 
of  flowers  would  make  the  best  display.  Even  I  do  not 
comprehend  it  fully,  though  I  have  known  him  so  long, 


276  Vernon  Grove. 

unless  it  be  that  there  is  a  spirit  of  beauty,  a  harmony 
within  him,  just  as  there  is  in  an  artist's  nature,  which 
calls  for  a  corresponding  beauty  without." 

"  But  the  story,"  said  aunt  Mary. 

"  Ah,  yes,  I  had  forgotten  !  Ever  so  long  ago,  when  I 
was  quite  a  little  child,  I  remember  his  coming  to  grand- 
mother's cottage,  and  saying  to  her  in  his  cold  proud 
way,  while  he  leaned  against  a  sapling  near  the  porch — 

" '  I  have  come  to  ask  you  to  live  with  me,  Mrs.  Gor- 
don ;  you  are  declining  in  life,  with  but  few  comforts 
around  you,  and  we  may  be  of  use  to  each  other ;  you 
M  ith  your  buoyant  spirit  which  knows  so  well  how  to  live 
down  trouble  and  disappointment,  can  cheer  me, — and 
a  home  with  me  will  save  you  much  anxiety  and  labor 
for  the  future ;  come,  and  the  obligation  will  be  mutual ; 
besides,  I  ought  not  to  be  entirely  a  stranger  to  my 
mother's  early  friend.' 

"  Grandmother  glanced  at  me  and  looked  troubled ; 
then  remembering  that  he  could  neither  see  the  glance 
nor  the  troubled  look,  she  said  : 

" '  But  the  child,  Mr.  Vernon  ;  I  promised  never  to 
forsake  her,  and  her  parents,  in  another  world,  will  ask 
her  at  my  hands ;  and  perhaps  if  I  take  her  to  your 
grand  home,  her  wild  untaught  ways  and  my  devotion 
to  her  might  not  be  exactly  what  you  would  like.' 

"  '  Bring  the  child,  Mrs.  Gordon,'  he  interrupted, 
'  your  duties  to  her  shall  in  no  way  interfere  with  what 
I  would  require  of  you.' 

"'But,'  continued  grandmother,  'there  are  other 
reasons  which  make  it  seem  best  that  I  should  remain 
here.  There  are  so  many  changes  with  the  great  and 
wealthy,  that  we  may  have  after  all  to  return  to  our  cot- 


Vernon  Grove.  277 

tage,  not  so  content  as  when  we  left  it.  I  have  heard, 
too,  of  a  place  where  the  blind  can  go  to  be  taught  bet- 
ter to  enjoy  life,  and  where  it  becomes  quite  easy  for 
them  to  read  and  write.  Still,  if  these  are  not  objec- 
tions, there  is  another  thing  which  would  materially 
alter  Sybil's  fortunes  and  mine  ;  this  dreary  country  life, 
now  a  novelty  to  you,  will  not  content  you  long ;  you 
will  leave  it  for  other  excitements  and  pleasures,  and  in 
your  wanderings  you  would  find  many  a  lady  of  the  land 
who  would  be  glad  to  place  her  hand  in  yours  and  lead 
you  the  world  over.' 

"  Though  it  is  many  years  ago  that  he  stood  there 
before  the  cottage  door,  I  shall  never  forget  the  lights 
and  shadows  of  feeling  that  passed  over  his  face,  like  the 
play  of  summer  lightning.  It  seemed  to  me  that  the 
light  was  there  because  grandmother  had  drawn  a 
pretty  picture  of  a  blind  man  led  by  a  fair  white  hand 
and  guided  on  by  a  tender  voice ;  and  shadows,  because 
he  knew  that  at  least  then,  it  was  not  real,  and  no  one 
waited  at  home  for  his  return ;  or  perhaps  after  all  it 
was  only  the  evening  sun  that  brightened  his  face  for  a 
moment  ere  it  disappeared,  leaving  his  naturally  gloomy 
aspect  darker  than  before. 

"  Mr.  Vernon  was  silent  for  a  moment,  and  pressed 
his  hand  upon  his  heart  as  though  there  was  a  pain  there, 
and  then  answered  sadly  and  with  something  of  bitter- 
ness in  his  tone — 

"  '  You  need  fear  neither  of  the  events  which  you 
have  mentioned  ;  first,  because  I  am  past  the  age  when 
I  could  regularly  apply  myself  to  learn  a  new  language, 
the  language  of  the  blind,  and  because  I  should  be  too 
impatient  to  study  the  minute  details  of  such  instruction : 


278  Vernon  Grove. 

then  as  for  the  other  contingency,  I  fear  that  the  ladies  of 
the  land,  as  you  call  them,  would  scarcely  thank  you  for 
the  privilege  which  you  are  so  ready  to  offer  them ;  true, 
there  might  be  some  who  with  a  Sister  of  Charity  spirit, 
for  pity,  might  undertake  such  a  task ;  and  I  know  one, 
and  perhaps  others,  who  would  accept  the  office  for  the 
sake  of  the  gold  which  gilds  it  and  which  happens  to  be 
the  blind  man's  heritage,  but  these  I  want  not.  As  for 
inspiring  pure  love,  the  love  which  endures  all,  hopes 
all,  gives  all,  that  I  can  never  hope  to  gain.  I  have  ex- 
perience to  tell  me  this ;  and  my  contempt  for  woman 
as  I  have  known  her,  her  deceit,  her  avarice,  her  world- 
liness,  is  too  much  a  part  of  my  nature  for  me  ever  to 
regard  her  otherwise  than  I  do  now.  But  though  this 
is  my  view  of  the  ball-room  butterflies  that  I  have  met, 
I  am  afraid  that  I  do  some  choice  spirits  that  I  have  not 
met  a  grievous  wrong,  and  it  is  for  this  very  reason  that 
I  want  your  companionship,  so  that  you  may  lead  me  to 
suppress  this  continual  murmuring  against  men  and  des- 
tiny, and  make  me  look  on  the  bright  side  of  life  instead 
of  its  darker  aspect.  It  is  because  I  am  proud,  and  sus- 
picious, and  wilful  by  nature,  that  I  want  your  kind 
counsel  to  check  me  and  to  help  me  to  be  more  like 
yourself, — tried,  and  yet  patient ;  afflicted,  yet  humble ; 
lonely,  yet  not  repining ;  yet  why,  oh,  my  God !'  he 
exclaimed  passionately,  '  why  is  it  that  I  am  so  stricken 
down  and  need  this  discipline  ?  Why,  under  such  a 
dispensation,  was  I  not  made  gentle  and  forbearing? 
Life  is  almost  too  worthless  a  thing  to  care  for.  A  blank 
or  positive  torment  would  be  almost  preferable.' 

"It  appeared  to  me  that  grandmother,  with  her  calm 
passive  nature,  scarcely  understood  his  impulsive  words, 


Vernon  Grove.  270 

so  sad  and  despairing,  or  the  character  of  him  who  stood 
before  her  as  he  bared  his  proud  heart  and  showed  its 
secret  sins,  for  she  said  something  reproachfully  about 
his  battling  against  the  decrees  of  Providence,  and  his 
gathering  only  thorns  when  he  might  gather  flowers. 

"  '  Flowers !'  he  said,  while  his  blind  eyes  seemed  to 
gaze  fruitlessly  around,  '  give  them  to  me;  tell  me  where 
there  are  any  in  my  path.' 

"  I  could  not  understand  then  all  that  he  meant, 
though  I  do  now,  and  simple  child  that  I  was,  I  took  the 
wreath  that  I  was  weaving  and  stood  by  his  side  ;  then 
as  he  had  said  that  he  wanted  flowers,  I  held  his  hand 
and  twined  around  it  my  pretty  garland. 

" '  These  are  beautiful  flowers,  Mr.  Vernon,'  I  said 
timidly,  '  crimson,  and  yellow,  and  blue,  and  the  leaves 
are  the  brightest  green  I  could  find.  It  is  I  who  am 
giving  them  to  you,  little  Sybil ;  will  you  take  them 
and  carry  them  to  your  home  ?' 

"  '  God  bless  the  child !'  he  said  tenderly,  '  so  you 
bring  me  flowers,  Sybil,  pure  offering  laid  by  pure  heart 
in  the  blind  man's  path.  Will  you  come  and  live  with 
me,  come  and  lead  me  into  the  sunshine  sometimes  and 
let  me  hear  the  tones  of  your  child-voice,  Sybil  ?' 

"  Foolish  words  I  answered  in  return,  but  they  could 
not  be  recalled. 

"  '  Yes,  I  will  come  if  grandmother  does,  for  she  has 
often  told  me  that  in  the  great  house  beyond  the  hill 
are  birds,  and  books,  and  gems,  and  pictures,  and  golden 
broideries  fit  for  a  queen.  Can  we  go  to-day,  or  to- 
morrow, can  we  go  now  f1  I  asked  with  childish  eager- 
ness. 

"  His  hand  dropped  mine.      '  Alas !'  he  said  '  you  are 


280  Vernon  Grove. 

not  separate  from  the  rest ;  draperies  and  tinsel,  broide- 
ries and  gold  are  the  uppermost  thoughts  with  one  and 
all  of  your  sex  ;  nevertheless,  Mrs.  Gordon,  come,  and 
bring  the  child ;  you  at  least  are  an  exception,  and  are 
above  being  tempted  with  these.' 

"Tlien  he  stooped  as  if  to  kiss  me,  but  turned  his  IK  ad 
listlessly  away,  bade  grandmother  good-by,  and  calling 
his  servant,  departed  slowly  through  the  twilight  woods. 

"  You  know  that  we  went ;  you  know  that  we  bade 
farewell  to  our  sweet  cottage  home,  Mr.  Vernon  sending 
for  us  in  his  grand  coach,  and  that  we  exchanged  our 
simple  life  for  his  splendid  home.  You  see  how  I  grew 
from  a  child  to  a  woman,  while  he  loved  me  as  if  I  were 
a  sister;  at  least  I  thought  so  until  to-day;  you  have 
heard  how  grandmother  gradually  became  imbecile 
and  helpless,  and  even  has  ceased  to  recognize  her 
grandchild,  and  yet  that  he  provides  for  her  com- 
fort as  if  she  were  all  in  all  to  him ;  that  he  let  me 
be  of  service  to  him  sometimes,  repaying  him  in  a 
small  degree  for  all  the  care  and  expense  that  he  has 
lavished  upon  me.  Then  came  his  sister's  visit  with  her 
beautiful  friend,  who,  I  sometimes  imagine,  might  have 
made  him  think  less  of  my  simple  rustic  ways ;  but  that 
may  be  a  harsh  judgment  and  I  will  take  it  back.  Next, 
my  gay  careless  sojourn  at  Mr.  Clayton's  city  home, 
where  everything  was  as  bright  and  beautiful  as  a 
dream ;  and  last,  Albert  Linwood's  arrival.  He,  I  must 
tell  you,  is"Mr.  Vemon's  best  friend, — an  artist  just  from 
his  studies  in  Europe,  and  a  great  favorite  with  all  who 
are  acquainted  with  him.  JTe,  aunt,"  said  Sybil  blush- 
ing, and  determined  to  have  no  half-way  confidence's, 
but  to  tell  the  whole  truth,  "  he  loved  me  after  he  had 


Vernon  Grove.  281 

known  me  a  little  while,  but  spite  of  all  that  his  friends 
said  in  his  favor,  I  could  riot  return  his  affection,  though 
his  society  always  gave  me  pleasure.  He.  was  so  impor- 
tunate, so  determined  to  win  my  love,  that  one  day  I 
told  him  that  it  must  be  a  forbidden  subject,  because 
the  more  I  thought  about  it,  the  more  I  felt  that  we 
could  never  be  nearer  than  friends.  This,  I  thought, 
finally  decided  the  matter,  when  Mrs.  Clayton  received 
a  letter  from  Mr.  Vernon,  counselling,  advising,  in  fact 
telling  me  in  just  so  many  words,  that  he  would  wish  me 
above  all  things  to  become  Albert's  wife ;  and  so  pressed 
hard  on  all  sides,  knowing  Mr.  Vernon's  wish,  and  Al- 
bert's worth,  subject  to  Mrs.  Clayton's  constantly  advo- 
cating it,  I  forgot  self  entirely  and  promised  to  be  his. 
Just  after  I  had  yielded  to  the  wishes  of  those  around, 
my  life  seemed  to  be  one  dark  dreadful  blank,  but  now 
that  he  whom  I  loved  so  well  has  forsaken  me,  I  seem 
to  turn  to  Albert  as  a  last  refuge,  trusting  in  the  end 
that  his  devotion  will  make  me,  if  not  happy,  content ; 
for  whom  have  I  now  to  go  to  for  protection  and  counsel 
but  you  and  him  ?" 

Sybil  stopped  for  a  moment  in  her  narrative,  and 
seemed  lost  for  awhile  in  deep  thought, — then  her  face 
brightened,  for  in  that  brief  space  of  reflection  she  ima- 
gined that  she  had  discovered  the  cause  of  Vernon's 
course  of  conduct. 

"There  is  one  other  thing,  dear  aunt  Mary,"  she 
continued,  "  which  I  forgot  to  tell  you,  and  which  may 
serve  to  explain  this  dark  mystery  which  surrounds  me. 
I  met  at  Mrs.  Clayton's  another  person — a  man  of  wealth 
and  position  whom  I  was  so  unfortunate  as  to  inspire 
with  love,  too,  but  neither  could  I  respond  to  his  any 


282  Vernon  Grove. 

more  than  to  Albert's  mad  worship,  and  so  I  had  to 
send  him  away  unhappy  and  disappointed.  The  idea 
came  to  me  just  now  that  Mr.  Vernon  had  heard  of 
this,  and  that  he  would  rather  have  me  marry  him  than 
Albert  because  his  wealth  and  influence  are  very  great ; 
I  thought,  that  provoked  because  I  had  refused  so  bril- 
liant a  lot,  Mr.  Vernon  might  impulsively  have  written 
that  dreadful  note  of  banishment.  But  my  judgment  is 
feeble,  my  brain  throbbing,  my  ideas  not  clear  to-day, 
dear  aunt,  and  now  that  you  know  all,  tell  me  what  you 
think,  and  so  ease  my  heart  of  its  heavy  load  of  wretch- 
edness." 

But  no  satisfactory  judgment  could  her  sympathising 
friend  form,  even  though  Sybil  had  told  her  all,  and 
kissing  her  affectionately,  and  telling  her  with  the  ear- 
nest trust  which  was  a  part  of  her  life,  "  to  be  of  good 
cheer,  for  there  was  a  silver  lining  to  every  cloud,"  she 
led  her  to  her  little  room  and  bade  her  good  night,  pro- 
mising to  consider  what  she  had  told  her,  and  perhaps 
on  the  morrow  she  might  be  able  to  arrive  at  something 
like  the  truth. 

(  The  griefs  of  girlhood  are  very  often  magnified,  and 
sometimes  from  the  lips  of  youth  come  passionate  ex- 
clamations which  would  seem  to  betoken  utter  misery, 
while  longing  for  death  and  vague  thoughts  of  seclusion 
for  life,  or  a  journey  in  disguise  to  some  foreign  coun- 
try, are  often  a  theme  of  meditation  for  those  who  are 
suffering  under  imaginary  or  real  slights  and  ill-treat- 
ment. But  Sybil  was  bowed  by  no  imaginary  grief. 
Up  to  the  time  of  her  departure  from  Vernon  Grove, 
her  life  had  been  one  pleasant  dream,  with  scarcely  a 
ripple  of  sorrow  to  break  upon  its  even  tenor ;  her  trials 


Vernon  Grove.  283 

had  not  come  to  her  by  degrees,  but  had  suddenly  en- 
veloped her  in  gloom ;  and  thus  when  she  was  left  alone 
in  that  unfamiliar  chamber,  with  the  drizzling  rain  beat- 
ing against  the  window  panes,  she  felt  utterly  forsaken ; 

"  the  future  stretched  before  her 

All  dark  and  barren  as  a  rainy  sea." 

Even  when  her  thoughts  rested  upon  her  aunt,  she  felt 
as  though  she  were  no  real  refuge  to  her,  since  though 
stfbng-minded  and  patient,  tried  by  sorrow  herself,  and 
submissive,  her  walk  in  life  had  been  but  an  humble  one, 
and  though  it  was  no  fault  of  hers,  Sybil  knew  that  she 
could  not  appreciate  her  nicer  feelings  or  sympathise 
with  the  refined  education  and  associations  which  had 
been  hers  since  she  had  found  a  home  with  one  so  fas- 
tidious as  Vernon. 

Had  she  discovered  anything  wherewith  to  reproach 
herself  in  that  long  and  lonely  vigil,  she  might  have 
gone  to  her  accuser,  and  humbling  herself  before  him, 
have  asked  his  forgiveness,  but  all  was  a  blank  save  his 
lettei',  the  words  of  which  seemed  burnt  into  her  heart 
and  brain. 

Ah,  how  weary  she  was  with  weeping;  her  head 
throbbed  wildly,  and  fever  flowed  with  the  blood  in  her 
veins.  The  day  had  seemed  to  her  longer  than  any 
other  in  her  life,  because  so  comfortless  and  wretched. 
Poor  forsaken  Sybil ;  she  sat  by  her  window  heedless 
of  the  rain  and  damp  air,  and  looked  out  into  the  night 
to  see  if  a  single  friendly  star  was  in  the  heavens  to 
shine  upon  her  with  a  cheering  ray,  but  in  vain  did  she 
look  for  sympathy  there,  for  the  night  was  starless ;  the 
fitful  waving  of  the  trees  and  their  grotesque  grouping 


284  Vernon  Grove. 

frightened  her,  while  a  sudden  gust  of  Avind  and  sleet 
drove  her  with  unfriendly  violence  away,  aud  she  closed 
the  casement  and  her  heart  despairingly,  while  the  last 
gleam  of  hope  of  any  external  aid,  to  dull  the  point  of 
her  sharp  sorrow,  died  away. 

"  It  cannot  be  wicked  sometimes  to  wish  to  die,"  she 
murmured,  as  she  gazed  vacantly  at  the  fading  embers 
on  the  hearth,  "  if  God  has  appointed  a  time  for  every 
one  to  leave  this  world  of  bitterness  for  another,  why 
could  not  mine  be  this  hour,  this  very  instant?  I 
would  gladly  welcome  death,  if  it  were  not  impious  to 
pray  for  it,  and  how  sweet  would  be  the  eternal  calm  of 
the  grave  compared  with  a  life  of  misery  such  as  mine." 

Then  she  whispered  to  herself  the  words  of  another, 
which  she  in  her  careless  happy  life  of  the  past  had 
often  wondered  at,  so  improbable  did  it  seem  that  any 
one  should  desire  to  leave  this  bright  beautiful  world 
of  sunshine,  but  now  they  came  home  especially  to  her 
saddened  heart. 

"  Take  me,  my  mother  Earth,  to  thy  cold  breast, 
And  fold  me  there  in  everlasting  rest, 
The  long  day  is  o'er ; 
I'm  weary,  I  would  sleep, 
But  deep,  deep, 
Never  to  waken  more." 

Alas!  for  Sybil!  alas!  for  us  all!  There  are  some 
nights  when  we  cannot  sleep,  when  the  overstrung 
nerves  refuse  to  be  quieted  and  the  anxious  heart  will 
not  be  still,  and  the  weeper  watches  drearily  on.  God 
save  us  from  many  of  these  frightful  vigils, — God  keep 
us  from  the  fierce  agony  of  such  sleepless  hours! 


Vernon  Grove.  285 

When  such  an  experience  comes  to  youth,  as  it  did  to 
Sybil,  it  is  unforgotten  almost  through  a  life  time.  The 
cold  night  succeeded  by  the  colder  dawn  found  her  still 
weeping,  and  watching,  and  longing  for  rest, — and 
through  all,  came  a  cry  wrung  from  her  young  heart, 
with  no  answering  voice  to  still  it — '•'•Alas !  what  have 
I  done?" 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

"The  death-bed  of  the  just- 
Angels  should  paint  it." 

YOUNG'S  Night  Thoughts. 

"  When  some  beloved  voice  that  was  to  you 
Both  sound  and  sweetness,  faileth  suddenly, 
And  silence,  against  which  you  dare  not  cry, 
Aches  round  you  like  a  strong  disease  and  new — 
What  hope  ?    What  help  ?" 

MRS.  BROWNING. 

SYBIL'S  change  of  destination  determined  Albert  at 
once  to  visit  his  friend,  and  feeling  in  the  all-absorbing 
passion  which  had  now  become  a  part  of  his  existence, 
that  he  had  neglected  one  to  wThom  he  owed  so  much, 
he  hastened  to  Vernon  Grove.  He  longed  to  impart  to 
him  the  joy  that  this  new  tie  in  his  life  occasioned,  to 
thank  him  for  all  that  he  had  been  to  Sybil  and  all  that 
he  had  done  for  her,  and  to  receive  his  congratulations 
in  person. 

He  was  not  so  absorbed  in  himself  as  to  fail  to  notice 
the  marked  improvements  which  had  taken  place  since 
he  had  visited  Vernon  Grove,  how  it  had  entirely 
changed  its  character,  and  from  a  fine  country-s^nt 
remarkable  only  for  its  beautiful  scenery,  wild  and  pic- 
turesque in  its  nature,  had  become  a  highly  ctdthrsted 
domain,  a  fitting  home  for  a  man  of  tastes  so  refined  and 
cultivated  as  Vernon's.  The  soft  fresh  air  of  the  coun- 


Vernon  Grove.  287 

try  blew  gently  upon  his  brow ;  the  brilliant  azure  of 
the  skies,  the  quiet,  interrupted  only  by  the  distant 
lowing  of  cattle  or  the  tinkling  of  the  bells  of  browsing 
sheep,  the  sense  of  perfect  peace,  all  thrilled  him  as  with 
a  magic  influence,  and  touched  him  as  no  scene  in  nature 
had  ever  done  before  ;  he  wondered  from  whence  had 
come  that  new  life,  that  better  appreciation  of  what  was 
lovely  in  the  world,  that  perfection  of  existence,  and 
with  a  wild  heart-throb  his  lips  murmured — "  it  is  love 
and  Sybil" 

His  delicious  reverie  was  interrupted  by  his  arrival  at 
the  door  of  the  house,  but  no  sooner  had  he  entered, 
than  he  perceived  by  the  utter  absence  of  the  accustomed 
ceremony  and  style  which  Vernon  always  maintained, 
and  by  the  hurrying  tread  of  servants  to  and  fro,  that 
Borne  unusual  event  was  disturbing  the  usual  tranquillity 
there.  This  was  a  true  conclusion,  for  a  stranger 
always  unexpected  but  ever  to  be  looked  for  was 
abiding  there  ;  the  spirit  of  death  was  silently  and  invisi- 
bly waiting  for  its  prey,  and  was  hovering  over  its  victim, 
who,  as  far  as  a  good  life  and  an  earnest  longing  for  a 
higher  state  of  existence  was  concerned,  was  prepared 
for  its  inevitable  call. 

Ever  since  Sybil's  departure,  Mrs.  Gordon  had  con- 
tinued the  same,  unconscious  of  the  presence  of  others, 
and  imbecile  to  perfect  childishness,  but  on  the  morning 
of  Linwood's  arrival  a  change  had  taken  place,  for  the 
better,  as  regarded  health,  an  unconcerned  looker-on 
might  have  said,  but  a  return  to  consciousness,  like  the 
bright  flicker  of  a  dying  lamp,  only  showed  those  who 
were  interested  in  her  that  her  last  great  change  was 
near,  and  that  the  bright  intelligence  which  she  evinced 


288  Vernon  Grove. 

was   only   an   earnest   of  what   her  freed  spirit  would 
quicken  into  when  it  left  the  feeble  body  of  clay. 

Her  first  act  was  to  call  repeatedly  for  Sybil,  and  Ver- 
non, remembering  his  promise  to  her  in  case  any  change 
should  occur  to  her  grandmother,  forgot  all  the  events 
which  preceded  his  sending  her  into  banishment  in  the 
presence  of  the  great  Master  of  events,  and  dispatched 
his  carriage  for  her  at  once  to  Mr.  Clayton's,  hoping  that 
it  would  still  find  Sybil  there.  All  his  injustice,  his 
ungenerous  course  of  conduct  suddenly  became  revealed 
to  him,  and  impatient  and  restless,  trying  to  soothe  the 
dying  woman  and  yet  not  knowing  how  to  explain  Sy- 
bil's absence  satisfactorily,  his  anxiety  for  a  few  hours 
was  punishment  enough  for  his  fault. 

The  sound  of  approaching  wheels  led  him  from  Mrs. 
Gordon's  room  to  the  entrance  door,  with  a  vague  hope 
that  Sybil,  had  not  obeyed  his  cruel  mandate  and  had 
returned  to  Vernon  Grove,  but  instead  of  the  expected 
grandchild's  arriving  to  shed  peace  around  her  relative's 
dying  bed,  Albert  entered,  and  with  extended  hand  and 
loving  voice,  greeted  his  friend.  It  was  no  time  nor 
hour  for  revenge  or  bitterness,  and  when  Albert,  with  a 
tremor  of  joy  in  his  tone,  and  a  beating  heart,  began  to 
tell  him  his  tale  of  happiness,  instead  of  smiting  him  to 
the  ground  as  the  evil  part  of  his  nature  suggested,  he 
simply  interrupted  him  by  saying  that  he  knew  all  from 
Isabel's  letter,  and  wished  him  every  possible  happiness, 
then  stating  the  case  of  the  dying  woman,  he  besought 
Albert  at  once  to  return  in  the  carriage  which  had  con- 
veyed him  thither,  and  to  bring  Sybil  to  her  grand- 
mother. When  Albert  informed  Vernon  that  only  the 
day  before  she  had  gone  to  her  aunt's,  as  he  thought 


Vernon  Grove.  289 

depressed  and  sad,  and  that  the  rain  had  poured  in  tor- 
rents during  her  lonely  drive,  Vernon  shuddered  to 
think  that  he  had  caused  her  the  suffering  which  she  had 
so  plainly  exhibited,  and  hurried  Albert  off  to  expedite 
her  return  to  her  old  home. 

Not  long  after  Sybil's  humble  noon-day  meal,  a  vehi- 
cle drove  up  to  her  aunt's  door,  and  Albert  Limvood 
alighted.  Sybil  knew  at  once  from  his  sad  and  subdued 
expression  that  he  was  the  bearer  of  evil  tidings,  and 
importuned  him  to  tell  her  at  once  if  he  were  the  mes- 
senger of  any  ill  news,  and  in  obedience  to  Vernon's 
injunctions  to  delay  not  an  instant  upon  his  errand,  he 
acquainted  Sybil  at  once  with  the  truth.  No  burst  of 
useless  anguish  overcame  her,  no  wringing  of  hands  and 
sobs  of  despair,  for  in  the  school  of  sorrow  through 
which  she  had  so  lately  passed  she  had  learned  something 
of  self-command ;  but  with  a  terrible  sinking  of  the 
heart  and  with  trembling  hands  she  made  her  prepara- 
tions for  departure,  blaming  herself  the  while  in  her 
silent  sorrow  for  having  ever  deserted  that  bed  of  loneli- 
ness and  sickness.  Only  once  did  Linwood  see  that 
calm  settled  look  of  despair  alter  in  its  stony  expression, 
and  this  was  as  she  turned  to  bid  her  aunt  farewell. 
Throwing  herself  passionately  into  her  arms,  she  kissed 
her  lips,  her  silvered  hair,  her  placid  brow,  as  though 
she  were  parting  from  her  only  friend,  and  sobbed  out 
her  thanks  as  she  embraced  her,  while  the  kind  old  lady, 
wiping  her  own  fast  flowing  tears  away,  bade  her 
remember  that  the  cottage  was  now  her  home,  the  little 
attic-room  her  own,  and  the  white-curtained  bed,  come 
weal,  come  woe,  especially  reserved  for  the  dear  child  who 
had  entered  like  a  gleam  of  sunshine  into  her  lonely  home. 
13 


290  Vernon  Grove. 

Sybil  could  only  look  her  gratitude  for  this  renewed 
kindness,  but  Albert  with  many  eloquent  words  thanked 
their  generous  hostess,  and  with  a  glance  of  pride  at 
Sybil,  bade  her  remember  that  he  had  a  claim  upon  her 
likewise,  and  that  at  some  future  time  not  far  distant,  he 
hoped  to  reciprocate  her  hospitality  by  offering  to  her  a 
home  with  them. 

The  old  despairing  look  came  back  to  Sybil;  a  sudden 
shudder  seized  her  upon  hearing  Linwood's  words,  and 
uttering  an  impatient  "  come,"  she  sprang  into  the  car- 
riage and  they  were  soon  speeding  swiftly  on  their  way. 
Sybil  was  silent  during  the  ride,  tormenting  herself  with 
new  reproaches  and  grateful,  oh,  how  grateful,  to  Vernon 
for  allowing  her  the  privilege  of  returning  to  give  one  look 
to  that  beloved  face  which  had  watched  her  from  her  cra- 
dle to  womanhood  ;  and  yet  she  almost  shrunk  from  the 
ordeal  which  awaited  her.  She  had  never  seen  death,  she 
had  read  of  it  only,  either  as  surrounded  with  horrors  or  as 
an  event  which  was  a  swift  and  beautiful  transition  from 
earth  to  a  higher  life,  where  a  corpse  was  bedecked  with 
flowers  or  drooping  willows  hung  poetically  over  a  fresh- 
made  grave,  but  in  her  conception  of  it  there  was 
nothing  real.  What  she  had  heard  and  read  seemed  to 
her  afar  off,  like  the  memory  of  a  dream,  but  now,  here 
it  was  close  at  hand;  the  rigid  form,  the  icy  brow, 
the  stiff  unanswering  lips,  the  unyielding  fingers,  and 
she  sank  back  in  the  carriage  and  covered  her  eyes  as 
though  to  shut  out  from  view  the  image  that  still  pur- 
sued her,  and  which  no  effort  of  hers  could  banish. 
Albert,  after  attempting  to  engage  her  in  conversation 
in  order  to  turn  her  thoughts  from  painful  subjects,  and 
failing  in  his  efforts,  left  her  to  herself,  and  Sybil  appre- 


Vernon  Grove. 


291 


ciated  his  delicacy  in  conjecturing  that  in  an  hour  like 
that,  words  had  no  comforting  power,  but  he  could  not 
refrain  from  occasionally  taking  her  hand  and  pressing  it 
tenderly,  or  whispering  a  single  word  of  endearment, 
which  she,  however,  scarcely  heard,  since  there  seemed 
only  one  bitter  thought  left  her,  one  overmastering  sen- 
sation, involved  in  a  little  sentence,  the  presence  of  death 
in  the  household. 

At  last  the  carriage  stopped  and  she  was  at  home — 
yes,  she  thought,  spite  of  all,  it  was  still  her  home,  and 
the  journey  to  it,  that  drive  which  seemed  to  her  to  have 
extended  over  numberless  days,  was  at  last  at  an  end, 
and  the  hallowed  spot  was  reached.  How  her  heart 
yearned  towards  each  familiar  object,  how  even  through 
eyes  now  fast  filling  with  tears  shr  noted  the  growth  of 
her  favorite  plants,  the  delicate  blossoms  of  the  fruit 
trees  which  she  had  left  with  bare,  craggy  branches,  the 
fresher  look  of  the  rain-brightened  verdure.  She  scarcely 
availed  herself  of  Albert's  proffered  assistance,  but  spring- 
ing lightly  to  the  ground,  hurriedly  replied  to  the  ser- 
vants' words  of  welcome,  rushed  by  them,  passed  the  long 
corridor,  up  the  wide  flight  of  steps,  and  then  with 
noiseless,  but  swift  footsteps,  entered  that  dim  and  silent 
room  of  death. 

It  needed  not  her  voice  in  its  cry  of  despair  as  she 
knelt  by  the  couch,  to  tell  at  least  one  of  the  inmates  of 
the  apartment  of  her  return,  for  Vernon  had  recognized 
her  first  foot-fall  on  the  stairs,  his  heart  beating  tumultu- 
ously  as  she  approached  nearer  and  nearer  to  his 
presence. 

That  absence  of  two  long  months  was  ended  !  For  a 
moment  he  forgot  that  she  was  another's  and  remenr 


292  Vernon  Grove. 

bered  her  only  as  his  little  Sybil  whom  he  had  been 
expecting  so  long  and  so  fondly,  and  an  impulse  to  fold 
her  to  his  heart  was  too  soon  dispelled  by  the  memory 
that  she  was  lost  to  him  for  ever. 

It  was  a  scene  that  Sybil  never  forgot.  There  lay  the 
dying  woman  gasping  her  name,  while  Vernon  leaned 
over  her  whispering  what  words  of  comfort  his  lips 
could  frame.  Even  hi  the  very  presence  of  death  she 
felt  a  quiet  satisfaction  in  thinking  that  they  were  at  least 
still  bound  together  by  friendship,  and  that  the  doom  of 
banishment  and  estrangement  extended  not  to  her. 

"  Grandmother,  look  at  me,"  she  cried,  sinking  down 
upon  her  knees  by  the  bedside,  "forgive  me  for  the 
wrong  that  I  did  in  leaving  you ;  ah,  you  know  not 
what  I  suffer." 

The  glazed  eyes  turned  lovingly  upon  the  pleading 
suppliant,  and  a  smile  lit  up  the  pale  face  lying  there 
which  was  more  potent  than  many  words. 

"  Could  you  only  be  spared  a  little  longer,"  said  the 
sobbing  girl,  "  I  would  show  you  how  much  I  love  you, 
I  who  left  you  so  desolate  and  ill." 

"  He  has  been  very  kind  to  me,"  gasped  out  the  dying 
woman,  pointing  to  Vernon,  who  could  not  withdraw 
himself  from  the  room,  though  he  felt  that  perhaps  that 
parting  hour  should  be  sacred  to  the  dying  woman  and 
her  orphan  child. 

Sybil  drew  nearer  to  him  and  laid  her  wet  cheek  upon 
his  hand. 

"  I  knew  he  would,"  she  said  softly,  "  I  trusted  you 
with  him  because  I  was  sure  of  his  kindness  and 
faithfulness." 

An  act  so  full  of  confidence  and  words  so  sweet  and 


Vernon  Grove. 


293 


forgiving  brought  a  conscious  blush,  of  guilt  to  Vernon's 
face. 

"  Have  I  been  kind  and  faithful  to  you,  beloved  child," 
he  whispered,  bending  over  her ;  "  have  I  not  rather 
proved  myself  faithless  and  not  worth  trusting  at  all  ?" 

"  You  did  not  mean  to  do  that?  she  answered,  press- 
ing the  soft  velvet  of  her  cheek  still  more  closely  to  his 
hand,  "it  was  a  mistake,  some  one  misled  you.  Ah, 
there  is  no  home  like  this ;  no  hand  so  fit  to  guide  me 
as  this  ;  you  will  not  send  me  away  from  you  again,  dear 
Mr.  Vernon,  promise  me  that  you  will  not." 

Her  gentleness,  her  sweet  call  for  protection,  her 
dependence  upon  him,  thawed  his  cold  nature,  and 
opened  his  heart  to  her  once  more.  He  drew  her  head 
upon  his  breast,  and  it  rested  there  for  a  brief  moment, 
and  could  he  have  seen  those  eyes  bent  upon  him  with 
an  inexpressible  tenderness,  he  would  have  blamed  him- 
self still  more  for  every  tear  that  he  had  caused  her  to 
shed. 

"  Sybil,"  he  said  earnestly,  "  forgive  me  for  what  I 
have  done  ;  the  demon  of  passion  maddened  me  when  I 
wrote  those  words,  and  triumphed ;  that  demon  which 
you  alone  can  quell ;  but  I  am  calmer,  better  now,  and 
I  promise,  so  help  me  God,  if  you  can  trust  to  the  pro- 
mises of  one  so  unworthy  as  I,  to  keep  you  here  with  me 
as  long  as  you  will  stay,  and  not  to  have  one  thought  of 
you  which  does  not  relate  to  your  welfare,  ay,  even  after 
Albert  himself  comes  and  takes  you  away." 

Sybil  started  at  his  closing  words,  and  then  crept  still 
closer  to  him  as  though  he  could  shield  her  even  then 
from  that  dreaded  event. 

"  And  will  you  promise  me,  too,"  she  asked,  "  to  tell 


294  Vernon  Grove. 

me  some  other  time  than  this,  what  bitter  wrong  I  did 
you  which  led  you  to  banish  me  for  ever  from  your 
presence  ?" 

"  It  was  no  wrong,  dear  Sybil,  or  if  there  were  any, 
it  was  all  on  my  side.  No,  I  can  never  disclose  to  you 
my  reason  for  that  insane  act — there  are  some  things  in 
life  which  must  remain  secret  between  man  and  his 
Maker,  some  emotions  which  only  He  must  behold. 
There  was  a  struggle,  but  its  nature  you  must  never  know 
— all  that  can  be  said  of  it  now,  is,  that  it  has  passed, 
and  that  we,  you  and  I,  my  precious  one,  are  not  to  be 
parted,  save  with  your  own  consent  again." 

Sybil  drew  a  long  free  breath  ;  she  was  satisfied  ;  and 
those  words  exchanged  in  whispers,  at  that  bed  of  death, 
were  necessary  to  make  them  friends  again.  Mrs.  Gor- 
don seemed  to  be  overcome  with  stupor  during  their 
short  dialogue,  but  suddenly  starting  up  she  spoke  her 
last  earthly  words. 

"  Sybil,  my  love,  give  me  your  hand,  and  now,  Richard 
Vernon,  yours.  I  thank  you  for  all  your  kindness  to 
your  dear  mother's  friend  ;  in  that  mother's  presence  I 
shall  soon  appear,  leaving  my  orphan  child  to  your 
care.  Promise  me,  with  her  hand  in  yours,  that  you 
will  be  to  her  henceforth  as  you  have  ever  been,  her 
father,  brother,  friend,  for  she  has  only  you  in  the  wide 
world." 

"  Shall  I  tell  her  that  you  have  another,  Sybil,  far 
dearer,  far  more  worthy  than  I,  to  guide  you  through 
its  perils  and  trials." 

"  Oh,  no,  no,"  answered  Sybil,  burying  her  face  in  her 
hands,  "  not  now,  let  her  die  thinking" 

"  Thinking  what,  Sybil  ?    Speak ;  her  breath  grows 


Vernon  Grove.  295 

fainter  each  moment ;  let  her  depart  with  what  comfort 
you  can  give  her." 

"  That  I have  but  you,"  she  answered,  "any  other 
knowledge  would  only  disturb  her  now." 

"  So  be  it,"  said  Vernon,  grasping  her  hand  more 
tightly,  while  a  holy  joy  shone  in  his  face,  and  upon 
them  as  they  were  clasped,  Vernon's  hand  and  Sybil's, 
Mrs.  Gordon  laid  her  own,  breathed  a  blessing  on  them 
both  and  expired. 

Vernon  placed  Sybil,  whose  strength  had  now  well 
nigh  failed  her,  in  a  chair,  and  calling  one  of  the  ser- 
vants who  was  awaiting  a  summons,  bade  him  tell  Albert 
that  he  was  wanted. 

"  It  is  all  over  now,  my  friend,"  he  said,  as  Linwood 
hastened  to  him,  "  and  Sybil  needs  your  most  tender  and 
watchful  care,  for  the  blow,  though  long  delayed,  has 
prostrated  her  even  more  than  I  expected.  Go  in  and 
see  her,  she  had  better  not  be  left  to  herself  just  now." 

Albert  entered  the  room  and  strove  to  arouse  Sybil 
from  the  unnatural  and  apathetic  state  in  which  he  found 
her,  but  she  prayed  so  earnestly  that  she  might  be  alone, 
that  in  obedience  to  her  wish  he  led  her  to  her  own 
apartment,  and  left  her  to  the  solitude  which  she  so  much 
desired.  Sybil  loved  her  room  with  an  almost  childish 
fondness,  its  four  walls  enclosed  an  atmosphere  which 
breathed  of  content  and  quiet  joy,  how  far  soever  she 
wandered  from  it,  she  felt  that  her  spirit  still  lingered 
within  it,  and  her  thoughts  turned  towards  it  as  the 
Persian  worshipper  turns  his  eyes  towards  the  sun.  She 
had  built  an  invisible  shrine  there  whereon  were  laid  her 
hopes,  her  aspirations,  her  prayers  from  her  childhood, 
and  it  was  with  emotions  of  deep  gratitude  that  she  felt 


296  •    Vernon  Grove. 

that  she  was  to  behold  it  once  more,  to  take  her  old  ac- 
customed seat  by  her  "  landscape  window,"  in  her  own 
comfortable  yet  not  luxurious  chair,  and  to  lose  in  for- 
getfulness,  on  her  own  familiar  couch,  the  memory  of  her 
trials  and  sorrows. 

But  all  was  changed  there  ;  too  bright,  too  beautiful 
was  it  for  her  crushed  and  broken  spirit,  and  she  scarcely 
recognized  it  as  her  own  chamber,  where  she  had  spent 
so  many  happy  hours  in  the  past.  One  thing,  however, 
seemed  familiar  to  her,  that  luminous,  peace-shedding 
picture  of  Evening,  whose  calming  power  once  inter- 
penetrated her  very  soul,  but  before  which  she  now 
closed  her  eyes,  so  intimately  did  it  connect  her  with  the 
artist  who  had  painted  it  and  to  whom  she  was  bound 
by  a  chain  which  galled  her  daily  more  and  more,  and 
which  she  felt,  if  it  were  not  for  Vernon's  sake,  reckless 
of  all  that  followed,  she  must  sever  in  twain. 

"  Not  for  me,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  can  be  those  rich 
hangings,  this  soft  pliant  carpet,  these  magnificent  mir- 
rors, for  I  was  sent  away  in  disgrace,  and  Mr.  Vernon 
must  have  fitted  up  my  room  for  another,"  and  deter- 
mined to  end  her  suspense,  and  to  check  the  bewildered 
state  of  her  mind,  she  rang  the  bell,  and  the  house- 
keeper appeared  in  answer  to  her  summons.  To  her 
kind  sympathising  glance,  and  offers  of  assistance,  Sybil 
replied  that  she  needed  her  not,  except  to  ask  her  if  she 
were  right  in  coming  to  that  room,  where  all  was  so 
new  and  strange,  so  elegant  and  tasteful,  and  if  there 
was  another  fitted  up  for  her,  if  she  could  be  shown  to 
it  at  once,  and  also  if  she  would  tell  her  when  the  lady 
was  coming  (she  thought  of  Florence  and  how  well  it 
would  suit  her)  who  was  to  occupy  that. 


Vernon  Grove.  297 

"It  is  for  no  one  but  yourself,  dear  Miss  Sybil," 
answered  the  woman,  "  and  it  is  pleasant  to  think  of 
the  praise  you  give  it.  I  told  Mr.  Vernon  how  pleased 
you  would  be,  and  if  you  are  satisfied  we  are  thanked 
enough  for  our  trouble.  It  would  have  done  your 
heart  good  to  see  Mr.  Vernon  toiling  and  working  to 
have  all  things  in  readiness  for  you ;  how  he  came  up 
three  or  four  times  a  day  to  ask  all  sorts  of  questions, 
how  he  had  that  little  worktable  moved  again  and 
again,  until  it  suited  him,  and  that  new  picture,  which 
came  when  you  were  away,  changed  from  its  place  time 
after  time,  until  he  was  sure,  by  what  I  told  him,  that 
the  light  struck  upon  it  in  a  way  that  you  would  like. 
Then  he  worried  himself  more  than  such  matters  are 
worth,  to  know  if  the  counterpane  suited  the  curtains, 
and  if  every  speck  of  dust  was  brushed  from  those 
curious  mantel  ornaments,  and  the  swinging  mirror 
hung  just  to  suit  your  height.  Ah,  Miss  Sybil,  if  you 
could  have  seen  it  all,  you  would  not  ask  if  he  meant  it 
for  any  one  else,  for  no  one  would  be  so  welcome  here 
as  yourself." 

Sybil  drew  a  long  sigh  of  relief. 

"Thank  you,  thank  you,  Mary,"  she  said,  "it  is 
indeed  beautiful,  almost  too  beautiful,  and  Mr.  Vernon 
has  been  very  kind.  You  may  go  now,  and  some  other 
time  you  must  come  and  hear  me  praise,  separately,  all 
your  nice  arrangements." 

Then  Sybil  prepared  for  sleep  almost  calmly ;  true, 
her  grandmother  lay  dead  in  the  house,  but  she  had 
been  called  to  her  last  long  rest,  after  a  life  of  goodness 
and  usefulness,  and  since  her  late  years  had  been  so 
unprofitable  to  herself,  it  was  her  great  gain  to  wake  up 
13* 


298  Vernon  Grove. 

upon  another  life  where  she  was  sure  of  an  active  parti- 
cipation in  the  duties  of  the  blessed  sphere  to  which  she 
had  been  removed.  This  reflection  was  certainly  most 
tranquillizing,  but  her  pleasure  in  the  thought  that  her 
mind  was  more  serene  than  it  had  been  for  several  days, 
lay  in  the  fact  that  she  was  not  forsaken  by  Vernon ;  on 
the  contrary,  that  she  was  the  object  of  his  especial 
care.  She  was  somewhat  perplexed  by  the  mystery 
which  she  could  not  solve  of  those  words  of  banishment 
which  she  knew  that  he  had  written  with  his  own  hand, 
but  what  mattered  they,  since  he  had  recalled  her  and 
had  so  humbly  asked  her  forgiveness ! 

Sweet  was  her  sleep,  sweet  her  innocent  dreams,  for 
even  in  her  unconsciousness  she  felt  that  he  loved  and 
cared  for  her  still. 

After  Albert  had  conducted  Sybil  to  her  room,  he 
returned  to  Vernon,  glad  of  an  opportunity  to  pour  out 
to  him  his  thanks  for  all  his  kindness  and  consideration 
in  allowing  him  to  speak  a  few  words  to  his  betrothed, 
in  fact  for  all  that  he  had  done  for  them  both  in  a  long 
series  of  unfailing  kindnesses. 

"  As  her  protector,  yours  was  the  right  to  yield  her 
up  into  my  care,  dear  friend,"  he  said,  "  and  while  I  live 
I  can  never  forget  what  you  have  done  for  us  mutually. 
You  have  made  her  what  she  is,  moulding  her  character 
by  your  watchful  care  to  its  present  perfection,  cultiva- 
ting her  mind  until  you  have  rendered  her  almost  your 
equal  in  intellect,  and  helping  her  to  develop  those  fas- 
cinating graces  which  charm  every  one  who  approaches 
within  her  sphere.  Be  assured,  dear  Vernon,  that  Sybil 
and  I  will  ever  make  your  welfare  our  daily  prayer." 

Vernon's  heart  seemed  to  him  to  be  turned  to  stone; 


Vernon  Grove.  299 

he  could  have  said  words  blasting  the  man  who  told  him 
so  confidently  that  he  would  bear  Sybil  Gray  away 
from  his  home  and  care ;  he  could  have  uttered  curses 
upon  his  head,  or  have  struck  him  dead  with  a  look,  but 
the  memory  of  that  little  hand  which  he  had  clasped 
within  his  own  so  lately,  and  of  that  fair  innocent  head 
which  had  been  pillowed  upon  his  breast,  restrained 
him,  and  though  he  could  not  answer  this  burst  of  grati- 
tude with  any  gratulatory  words,  he  was  at  least  silent, 
and  that  was  a  gain  for  his  rebellious  heart. 

Passing  on  to  the  solitude  of  his  own  apartment,  he 
closed  the  door  and  locked  it  against  intrusion,  and  then 
throwing  himself  upon  his  knees,  prayed  as  she  had 
taught  him.  What  words  were  then  addressed  to  an 
all-pitying  God,  man  may  never  know ;  what  agony  was 
his,  what  temptation,  what  struggle,  what  triumph  at 
last ;  but  this  we  may  know,  that  to  the  grave  of  his 
aged  friend  he  went  the  next  day  with  a  changed  nature, 
purified  from  many  of  its  stains,  girded  with  strong 
resolves,  and  bent  upon  making  a  final  conquest  of  self. 
The  good  seed  sown  by  the  patient  child  who  had 
guided  him  in  his  blindness,  had  sprung  up  into  growth, 
and  the  harvest  was  abundant  and  blessed. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

"  Ilis  love  is  hidden,  like  the  springs 
Which  lie  in  earth's  deep  heart  below, 
And  murmur  there  a  thousand  things 
Wliicli  nought  above  may  hear  or  know. 
'Tis  hid,  not  buried !     Without  sound, 
Or  light  or  limit,  night  and  day, 
It  (like  the  dark  springs  underground), 
Runs,  ebbs  not,  and  can  ne'er  decay." 

BARBY  CORN  WALL. 

THE  burial  was  over,  the  grave  had  received  its  o\v7i, 
and  still  Sybil  mourned.  Those  who  watched  and 
were  interested  in  her,  could  not  fathom  the  cause 
of  her  deep  and  almost  increasing  sorrow,  and  many 
a  pitying  glance  rested  upon  her  now.  She  had  ex- 
changed the  tasteful  dresses,  in  which  Isabel  had  de- 
lighted in  arraying  her,  for  the  sombre  habiliments  of 
mourning,  and  never  had  her  beauty,  though  more 
ethereal  than  formerly,  appeared  to  such  advantage. 
She  was  paler  than  usual,  her  form  had  lost  much  of  its 
roundness,  and  her  eyes  seldom  had  any  other  expres- 
sion besides  one  of  deep  seriousness. 

Insensibly  she  had  taken  her  accustomed  place  in  the 
household,  the  servants  coming  to  her  for  counsel  and 
assistance,  and  apparently,  the  inner  lives  of  the  trio 
who  dwelt  at  Vernon  Grove,  were  as  peaceful  and  sys- 
tematic as  the  outer  arrangements,  and  a  looker-on 


Vernon  Grove. 


301 


would  have  thought  that  Sybil,  especially,  was  a  happy 
person  to  have  found  such  a  friend  as  Vernon,  and  such 
a  man  as  Albert  Linwood  to  be  her  protector  through 
life. 

But  no  one  knew  the  secrets  of  that  young  heart,  no 
one  knew  of  the  struggle  that  she  hourly  underwent. 
Each  day  she  felt  that  Albert  was  not  to  her  what  she 
desired  in  one  who  was  to  be  her  companion  nearer 
than  a  friend,  whom  she  was  to  cherish  for  better  or 
worse,  and  though  she  could  not  define  in  what  particu- 
lar lay  the  deficiency,  and  blamed  herself  for  her  want 
of  appreciation,  still  she  could  not  overcome  the  inde- 
finable repugnance  that  he  inspired,  and  which  she  felt 
was  undermining  her  very  existence.  True,  his  tender- 
ness was  almost  womanly ;  true  he  guarded  her  against 
the  shadow  of  an  evil,  and  loved  on  madly  and  blindly, 
content  with  a  cold  "  I  thank  you,"  or  a  barely  suffered 
caress ;  still  Sybil  grew  each  day  more  unhappy  and 
silent,  and  the  glad  promise  of  her  youth,  the  blessing 
of  a  cheerful  spirit,  seemed  departing  from  her. 

The  one  object  in  her  life,  and  that  in  which  she 
exerted  every  power,  was  to  try  to  hide,  at  least  from 
Vernon,  what  she  suffered,  and  even  though  she  failed, 
to  accept  the  lot  which  he  had  marked  out  for  her  with 
uncomplaining  patience.  Though  he  had  never  ex- 
plained or  alluded  to  his  conduct  in  regard  to  the  brief 
note  which  she  had  received  from  him  when  she  was  at 
Mr.  Clayton's,  he  had  pressed  her  so  earnestly  to  remain 
under  his  roof  until  her  marriage,  or  after,  if  Albert's 
engagements  permitted,  that  Sybil  had  almost  forgotten 
that  terrible  fiat  of  banishment,  or  remembered  it  only 
as  a  painful  dream.  One  thing  besides  her  own  iimne- 


302  Vernon  Grove. 

diate  troubles  gave  her  cause  for  weakness,  and  this 
was  a  change  which  had  come  over  Vernon  since  her 
return ;  he  was  no  longer  the  Vernon  of  old,  impetuous 
and  imperious,  but  gentler  and  more  sad,  avoiding  the 
presence  of  his  guests,  and  never  intruding  upon  them 
unless  in  the  civilities  which  his  position  of  host  entailed 
upon  him.  He  no  linger  enlivened  their  home  circle  by 
his  wonderful  conversational  powers,  nor  was  his  laugh 
that  winning  contagious  laugh,  which  bespoke  a  heart 
at  ease,  overheard  as  Sybil  had  sometimes  heard  it 
in  the  days  that  were  past.  Morning  after  morning, 
after  having  been  led  to  his  favorite  haunts  by  his  ser- 
vant, he  spent  long  hours  alone,  and  at  twilight,  that 
hour  which  he  and  Sybil  had  ever  enjoyed  as  the  crown- 
ing happiness  of  a  happy  day,  instead  of  the  brilliant 
compositions  which  he  used  to  improvise,  he  would 
strike  a  few  dirge-like  notes  upon  his  piano,  and  pour 
out  his  soul  in  strains  as  touching  and  as  sad  as  the 
instrumental  music  which  accompanied  them. 

"  Short  swallow-flights  of  song,  that  dip 
Their  wings  in  tears  and  skim  away." 

And  such  was  the  life  at  Vernon  Grove,  monotonous, 
quiet,  and  too  calm  to  be  natural,  for  even  Linwood's 
voice  was  toned  down  to  a  whisper,  and  his  cheerful 
spirit  imbibed  somewhat  of  the  prevailing  solemnity 
which  he  felt  hung  like  a  pall  over  them,  and  which  was 
not  exactly  the  "jubilee"  that  Sybil  had  spoken  of  as 
connected  with  his  return  from  his  wanderings  abroad. 
But  an  event  soon  occurred,  materially  changing  the 
state  of  things  then  existing  at  Vernon  Grove. 

One  night  after  they  had  all  retired  to  their  rooms, 


Vernon  Grove.  303 

Albert  and  Vernon  to  rest,  and  Sybil,  as  was  often  the 
case  now,  to  the  serious  contemplation  of  her  peculiar 
position, — seated  by  an  open  window,  she  perceived  a 
dense  smoke  arising  from  the  wing  of  the  house  in 
which  Richard  and  Linwood  slept,  and  soon  the  convic- 
tion forced  itself  upon  her  that  the  building  was  on  fire. 
Suddenly,  as  if  to  confirm  her  in  her  opinion,  a  bright 
flame  shot  upwards  in  the  darkness,  and  Sybil,  now  fully 
aware  of  the  danger,  and  with  but  one  impulse  in  her 
mind,  rushed  towards  Vernon's  chamber.  That  she  was 
the  betrothed  of  another,  that  her  duty  should  have  led 
her  first  to  the  rescue  of  her  promised  husband  did  not 
occur  to  her  ;  she  simply  obeyed  the  promptings  of  that 
strong  inward  suggestion  which  overmastered  every 
other,  and  which  said  as  plainly  as  words,  "lie,  Mr. 
Vernon  is  in  danger ;  save  him."  Everything  was 
blank ;  her  world  contained  but  one  individual  ;  her 
heart  beat  but  for  one  other  besides  herself;  the  prayer 
which  escaped  from  her  trembling  lips  breathed  only  for 
the  welfare  of  one. 

Speeding  across  the  corridor,  towards  Vernon's  room, 
she  found  that  her  passage  to  it  was  impeded  by  a  cloud 
of  smoke,  and  the  heat  was  so  intense  that  it  would  be 
almost  impossible  for  her  to  pass  through  it ;  but  Sybil 
was  a  courageous  mortal,  and  since  she  had  given  up 
her  happiness  because  Vernon  had  willed  it,  it  mattered 
little  to  her  whether  she  sacrificed  her  life  also.  For 
a  moment  she  stood,  irresolute  ;  simply  the  yielding 
up  of  her  existence  for  the  welfare  of  one  whom  she 
loved  was  an  easy  matter  to  her,  but  the  probable  suf- 
fering which  would  lead  to  it,  the  sharp  agony  of  the 
intense  scorching  heat,  the  stifling  suffocation,  appalled 


304  Vernon  Grove. 

her.  The  wavering  only  lasted  for  a  brief  time  ;  draw- 
ing  a  shawl  which  she  had  thrown  over  her  shoulders 
more  closely  about  her,  and  covering  as  much  of  her 
head  and  face  as  was  possible,  she  uttered  a  hasty  prayer, 
and  plunging  boldly  into  the  thickening  smoke,  at  last 
reached  Vernon's  door.  With  a  firm  hand  she  knocked 
to  awaken  him,  and  told  him  in  a  few  words,  that  the 
house  was  on  fire,  beseeching  him  to  open  his  door  as 
soon  as  possible,  in  order  that  they  might  think  of  some 
plan  to  gain  assistance ;  she  added  that  she  could  not 
retrace  her  steps,  as  the  flames  had  crossed  the  corridor, 
through  which  she  had  just  passed,  but  that  she  would 
wait  patiently  there  until  he  opened  the  door. 

Light  and  darkness  being  the  same  to  Vernon,  he 
hastily  dressed  himself,  and  was  soon  ready  to  admit 
Sybil,  and  to  hear  further  of  the  progress  of  the  fire, 
but  in  the  meantime  the  poor  girl  had  suffered  agony, 
for  the  flames  gained  upon  her  each  moment,  and  her 
hands  and  arms  seemed  seared  as  with  a  hot  iron.  Her 
waiting  there  appeared  to  her  like  an  eternity,  and  she 
thought  of  rushing  back  even  through  the  flames,  any- 
thing seeming  preferable  to  the  fearful  misery  of  being 
slowly  burnt  to  death  where  she  stood ;  but  at  length 
the  door  opened,  and  she  sprang  into  the  room  with  a 
glad  cry  of  unspeakable  joy,  while  Vernon,  feeling  the 
intense  heat,  knew  in  part,  but  only  in  part,  what  she 
had  suffered. 

"  You  must  shut  the  door  again,"  said  she,  quickly, 
"  or  the  draught  will  force  the  flames  this  way.  God 
has  been  very  good  to  you  and  to  me,  Mr.  Vernon  ;  if 
I  had  been  one  moment  later  I  could  not  have  come  to 
you,  and  what  might  you  not  have  suffered ;  perhaps  in 


Vernon  Grove.  305 

your  unconscious  slumber  you  would  have  been  burned 
to  death." 

"  I  feel  that  you  have  saved  my  life,  dear  Sybil,"  he 
answered,  "that  life  which  I  would  willingly  lay  down 
for  you,  my  child;  but  this  is  no  time  for  thanks  or 
congratulation  ; — where  is  Albert  ?  You  have  aroused 
him,  of  course,  and  have  warned-  him  of  his  danger. 

"No,"  said  Sybil,  in  a  low  tone,  "I  came  here  first,  I 
did  not  think  of  him." 

A  steady  pulsation  of  joy,  even  in  that  moment  of 
peril,  throbbed  in  Vernon's  heart,  but  duty  was  stronger 
even  than  the  love  which  he  felt  for  Sybil.  His  first 
impulse  was  to  ask  her  to  say  those  words  once  more, 
those  sweet,  low,  musical  words  which  seemed  to  give 
him  the  chief  place  in  her  memory ;  but  in  an  instant  he 
remembered  how  natural  it  was  that  Sybil  should 
endeavor  to  arouse  him,  the  master  of  the  house,  first ; 
how  habit  had  taught  her,  since  her  childhood,  to  refer 
everything  to  him  which  related  to  the  judgment  or  a 
course  of  action  to  be  pursued ;  and  again,  how  custom 
had  always  led  her  to  offer  him  her  arm  as  a  guide. 

"Sybil,  we  must  remain  here  no  longer,"  he  said, 
"I  hear  the  flames  roaring  without,  and  human  lives 
are  in  jeopardy.  There  is  another  entrance  to  my 
chamber  which  leads  out  upon  the  lawn.  Through  that 
passage  we  must  go ;  then  there  is  a  second  flight  of 
steps  which  will  conduct  you  from  the  basement  up  into 
Albert's  room ;  when  we  have  reached  that,  you  must 
be  a  heroine  once  more,  awake  him,  if  he  is  not,  as  I 
suppose,  already  aroused  by  the  light,  and  the  unusual 
sounds,  and  in  search  of  his  treasure  whom  he  will  find 
flown  away."  . 


306  Vernon  Grove. 

"And  leave  you  in  your  blindness  alone!"  said  Sybil 
in  a  passionate  tone  unusual  to  her;  "how  do  I  know 
but  the  flames  may  reach  you  even  at  the  foot  of 
the  staircase  before  I  return.  No ;  better  let  me  die, 
leave  me  here  and  let  me  die  before  you  send  me  away 
from  you  again." 

"Hush,  Sybil,"  he  said,  "be  calm!" 

They  were  passing  down  the  narrow  passage,  Sybil 
guiding  him  out  into  the  starlight,  and  as  they  neared 
the  entrance  the  damp  night  air  came  gratefully  to 
Vernon  in  contrast  with  that  hot  stifling  mass  of  heated 
smoke,  but  Sybil  scarcely  knew  or  felt  the  change. 

"  Why  must  I  be  silent  ?"  she  said  in  the  same  reckless 
impulsive  tone;  "do  you  wish  to  make  me  remember 
what  I  cannot  very  easily  forget,  that  my  life  belongs  to 
another,  that  I  am  bound  even  as  a  slave  ?  But  I  will 
not  be  silent ;  I  will  say  now  what  I  have  not  dared  to 
say  before" 

The  sentence  was  finished  with  a  groan,  and  Vernon 
knew  by  the  dead  heavy  weight  that  fell  against  him 
that  Sybil  had  fainted,  and  her  strange  words  he  con- 
cluded were  nothing  more  than  delirium  occasioned  by 
the  excitement  through  which  she  had  passed,  the 
bewildering  experiences  of  the  hour. 

They  had  reached  the  foot  of  the  steps,  and  the  way 
was  free  from  impediments  to  him  now ;  he  knew  that  he 
was  upon  that  green  soft  sward,  and  every  inch  of  it  was 
familiar  to  him,  and  that  he  had  only  to  proceed  forward 
a  few  paces  to  gain  a  garden  chair  in  which  to  place  her. 

It  was  clear  to  him  that  Sybil  had  fainted,  and  he 
judged  rightly,  but  he  little  dreamed  that  it  was  from 
pain  ;  that  her  delicate  hands  and  arms  had  been  scorched 


Vernon  Grove. 


3°7 


and  blistered  by  the  fierce  heat  as  she  stood  waiting  at 
his  door.  He  only  knew  that  his  beloved  was  in  his 
arms  once  more ;  that  he  held  her  there  for  the  last  time 
ere  another  claimed  her  for  his  own;  that  her  breath 
was  upon  his  cheek,  and  her  heart  near  his.  All  the  evils 
in  the  world  seemed  light  while  thus  she  lay.  Even  God 
would  forgive  him,  he  said  to  himself,  for  calling  her  his 
own  then,  and  bending  over  her  insensible  form,  he 
addressed  her  in  many  a  name  of  endearment,  and  with 
a  reckless  kind  of  frenzy,  he  kissed  her  brow,  her  cheeks, 
her  lips,  and  called  heaven  to  witness  that  he  loved  her 
as  never  man  had  loved  before. 

Soon  he  became  conscious  of  approaching  footsteps 
and  voices,  and  among  the  rest  Albert's. 

"  God  of  mercy,"  exclaimed  Albert,  "  we  have  found 
her  at  last ;  speak,  Vernon,  tell  me  that  she  is  not  dead 
or  dying  that  she  lies  thus." 

"  I  trust  not,"  said  Vernon,  trying  to  be  calm,  and 
resigning  her  to  Albert  with  a  sigh ;  "  in  order  to  rouse 
some  one,  for  I  believe  that  she  was  the  first  to  discover 
that  the  house  was  on  fire,  she  came  to  my  room,  and 
the  confusion,  the  responsibility,  the  fright,  proved  too 
much  for  her,  and  caused  her  to  faint.  She  has  been  in 
this  unconscious  state  once  before  to  my  own  knowledge, 
and  it  will  be  sometime  before  she  recovers." 

"  Thank  God !"  said  Albert,  as  he  bent  over  her, 
"  thank  God  that  it  is  not  death ;"  then  folding  her  in  his 
arms,  he  tried  to  wake  her  to  consciousness  with  burning 
accents  of  love. 

The  old  demon  of  passion  pulled  hard  at  Vernon's 
heart.  Linwood's  words  maddened  him,  and  the  deso- 


308  Vernon  Grove. 

lating  fearful  scourge  of  jealousy  raged  furiously  in  his 
breast. 

"  What  of  the  fire  ?"  he  asked  impatiently,  "  leave 
her  to  me,  Albert,  and  follow  the  men  who  have  gone 
to  try  to  extinguish  it.  As  I  can  be  of  no  use,  I  will 
sit  here  with  her  until  she  recovers,  while  you  can 
direct  the  hands,  and  if  possible  save  a  portion  of  the 
house." 

"The  right  wing  of  the  building,"  returned  Albert, 
"  I  fear  must  be  consumed;  I  left  a  portion  of  the  laborers 
trying  to  extinguish  the  flames  on  the  other  side,  while  I 
brought  a  few  this  way  in  my  search  for  Sybil,  whom 
the  servants  and  I  failed  to  discover  in  any  portion  of 
the  house,  although  we  concluded  in  the  end  that  as  both 
your  and  her  rooms  were  vacant,  you  had  sought  shelter 
where  we  found  you  at  last.  As  you  suggest,  I  will  go 
and  try  to  give  some  system  and  order  to  their  endeavors, 
but  even  with  their  best  exertions,  I  fear  the  house  will 
not  be  habitable  for  some  time,  and  to  prepare  you  for 
the  worst,  Vernon,  it  may,  possibly,  if  the  wind  rises, 
burn  to  the  ground,  and  then  what  could  we  do  with 
Sybil — where  could  we  find  the  nearest  shelter  for  her  V" 

"Leave  that  to  me,"  said  Vernon,  "I  have  already 
thought  of  a  plan.  I  purchased  the  cottage  in  which  she 
lived  formerly,  not  long  ago,  and  it  is  in  the  care  of  a 
trusty  servant — if  you  will  remain  here  and  do  what  you 
can  to  assist  those  brave  men,  I  will  take  her  there,  John 
driving  us  hi  the  carriage.  Save  everything  that  you 
can  belonging  to  her,  and  tell  Mary  to  follow  after  us  in 
your  vehicle  with  every  comfort  which  she  thinks  Sybil 
may  require,  and  if  we  start  immediately,  I  hope  the 


Vernon  Grove. 


3°9 


poor  child  will  open  her  eyes  upon  a  more  peaceful  scene, 
and  one  of  a  less  exciting  nature  than  this." 

"  Your  plan  is  the  best  that  could  be  imagined,"  was 
Albert's  answer.  "Vernon,"  he  continued  solemnly, 
taking  his  hand,  "it  is  not  for  me  to  tell  you,  her 
protector,  her  friend,  the  guardian  of  her  childhood,  the 
faithful  watcher  of  her  maturer  years,  to  shield  her  as 
you  would  the  best  treasure  in  God's  giving,  but  oh,  my 
friend,  when  I  say  to  you  be  gentle  with  her  gentle 
nature,  be  patient  with  her  in  her  helplessness,  you  will 
realize  how  much,  how  entirely  I  love  Sybil  Gray." 

And  so  it  came  to  pass  that  Sybil,  leaving  the  stately 
mansion  of  Vernon  Grove  a  mass  of  thick  smoke  and 
desolating  flame,  was  bound  on  a  pilgrimage  to  that 
humble  homestead,  the  cottage  in  which  she  was  born. 

The  rocking  motion  of  the  carriage  and  the  current 
of  cool  night  air,  soon  restored  her  to  consciousness,  but 
far  better  would  it  have  been  had  she  been  insensible,  for 
she  awoke  to  experience  a  burning  fever  in  her  veins  and 
a  sensation  as  though  liquid  fire  were  playing  over  her 
hands  and  arms.  Though  her  gaze  could  not  penetrate 
through  the  thick  darkness,  she  knew  that  her  head  was 
pillowed  upon  a  beating  heart,  and  that  an  arm  was 
supporting  her  form.  She  knew  that  but  one  cared  to 
hold  her  there  and  thus,  and  but  to  one  belonged  the 
privilege. 

"  Where  are  we  going,  Albert  ?"  she  asked  faintly, 
"  When  will  this  dark  mysterious  ride  come  to  an  end  ?" 

"It  is  not  Albert,  it  is  I,"  said  Vernon  in  a  voice 
trembling  with  emotion.  "  Albert  is  with  the  men  trying 
to  extinguish  the  fire.  Are  you  better,  Sybil  ?  Are  you 
in  any  pain?  Can  you  lie  tranquilly  until  you  have 


31  c  Vernon  Grove. 

regained  your  strength,  or  until  we  reach  the  little 
cottage  Avhere  you  and  your  grandmother  once  lived  ?" 

"Awhile  ago  I  did  feel  pain,"  she  answered,  "fierce, 
intense,  burning  pain,  for  the  flesh  upon  my  hands  and 
anus  is  all  scorched  and  shrivelled  away;  but  it  was  in  a 
good,  a  righteous  cause,  and  now  there  is  no  pain,  for 
you  are  safe, — only  a  perfect,  perfect  rest." 

Vernon  thought  that  her  mind  was  wandering  still, 
and  realized  the  cause  in  the  horrible  truth  that  her 
hands  and  arms  were  in  the  condition  which  she  had 
described,  and  the  agony  made  her  delirious.  He 
thought,  too,  that  he  might  be  cruelly  bruising  them  by 
the  rough  clasp  of  his  own  rude  touch,  and  by  a  gentle 
movement  he  released  her  in  a  measure  from  his  sup- 
porting arms. 

"  Are  you  tired  of  me,"  she  asked  reproachfully,  "  do 
I  weary  you  ?  do  you  want  to  put  me  far  away  from 
you  still,  needing  as  I  do  now,  more  than  ever,  a  heart, 
a  home,  a  resting-place  ?" 

"Tired  of  you,  little  Sybil!"  said  Vernon  in  a  tone  of 
the  deepest  tenderness  and  tempted  almost  beyond 
endurance  to  tell  her  all;  "tired  of  the  light  of  my  life, 
my  only  hope  and  joy  ?  God  knows  that  I  never  should 
tire  of  you ;  I  am  only  wretched  and  forlorn,  for  soon 
my  Sybil  will  leave  me,  and  my  home  lies  in  ruins  behind 
us.  But  what  right  have  such  as  I,"  he  asked  bitterly, 
"to  Sybil  or  home ?" 

"  And  is  our  beautiful  house  at  the  Grove  a  ruin,  and 
is  this  the  reason  why  we  are  taking  refuge  at  the  cot- 
tage, and  shall  you  be  poor  now,  Mr.  Vernon,  with  no 
home  but  that  humble  one  ?" 

"And  what  if  it  be  so,  what  then?"  asked  Vernon 


Vernon  Grove.  311 

moodily.  A  sudden  sharp  pang  of  bodily  agony  elicited 
a  groan  from  Sybil ;  the  torture  of  those  fearful  burns 
was  almost  more  than  she  could  bear ;  then  that  sudden 
anguish  passed  away  somewhat,  but  not  entirely,  and 
the  paroxysm  left  her  calmer  when  it  was  over,  and  she 
gasped  out  a  few  hurried  words. 

"  Soon — some  other  time— when  this  agony  is  less,  I 
have  something  to  say  to  you,  but  not  now." 

"Is  there  anything  that  I  can  do  for  you,  any  evil 
that  I  can  avert  ?"  said  Vernon  anxiously,  drawing  her 
tenderly  towards  him  again,  as  though  to  protect  her 
even  then,  "  tell  me ;  will  you  not  let  me  help  you  with 
my  advice  or  sympathy  ?" 

The  answer  came  in  a  way  that  he  was  all  unprepared 
for. 

"  Y~es,  Richard." 

The  words  were  sloAvly  and  deliberately  spoken,  and 
thrilled  him  through ;  the  tender  tone  brought  the  hot 
blood  to  his  cheek;  he  could  not  believe  that  he  was 
awake,  but  thought  himself  under  the  influence  of  a  dream 
and  was  silent. 

Like  a  poverty-stricken  man  who  has  prayed  for  relief 
and  suddenly  finds  himself  struck,  bruised,  and  felled  to 
the  ground  with  heavy  showers  of  massive  gold,  so  felt 
Vernon ;  the  precious  metal  lay  within  his  very  grasp 
and  yet  it  was  denied  him  to  gather  it. 

"  Ah,  Sybil,"  said  he,  breaking  the  silence  at  last,  "  I 
must  do  my  duty  by  you  though  keen  suffering  to 
myself  be  the  penalty.  Though  you  promised  to  call  me 
'  HichardJ  when  you  returned,  and  though  the  sound  is 
sweeter  than  any  that  ever  came  to  mortal  ear,  you  must 


312  Vernon  Grove. 

do  so  no  more  now  that  you  belong  to  another.  If  he 
were  here,  Sybil,  do  you  think  that  he  would  regard 
with  complacency  or  any  approval  whatever  that  word 
spoken  from  your  lips  to  me." 

Recklessly  came  her  reply,  a  mad  whirlwind  in  con- 
trast with  his  calm,  deliberate,  cautious  utterance ;  mad 
enough,  strong  enough,  to  demolish  any  barrier  between 
them,  powerful  enough  to  bend,  ay,  to  break  even  his 
iron  will. 

"  I  know  not,  care  not,  Richard." 

But  he  kept  his  vow:  love  and  honor  made  him  strong; 
love  for  Sybil,  whom  he  now  scarcely  regarded  as  a 
responsible  person,  but  as  one  tortured  into  delirium  by 
pain,  and  that  strong  chain  of  friendship  by  which  he 
was  bound  to  Albert,  and  which,  rather  than  sever,  he 
would  have  encountered  death.  Still  something  further 
must  be  said,  and  that  he  spoke  desperately. 

"Sybil,  Sybil,  beware;  you  have  redeemed  your 
promise  given  under  other  circumstances  than  these ; 
but  if  you  do  not,  Albert  would  care  had  he  heard  you 
give  utterance  to  the  word  which  you  used  just  now. 
Think  you,  if  you  were  to  me  what  you  are  to  him, 
loving  me  and  beloved  by  me,  that  I  could  calmly  hear 
you  call  him  'Albert?'  Think  you  that  I  could  spare  a 
tone,  a  whisper  of  tenderness  ?  Why,  Sybil,"  he  con- 
tinued, eloquently  pleading  for  another's  right,  and 
advocating  another's  cause,  "  were  you  mine,  think  you 
that  I  could  bear  you  from  my  presence  ?  No,  you  would 
be  mine — mine  exclusively,  my  treasure,  my  joy,  my 
religion,  my  life,  and  next  to  the  God  whom  you  have 
taught  me  to  love,  my  all.  It  is  thus  with  Albert,  Ids 


Vernon  Grove. 


affection  for  you  is  as  jealous,  as  requiring  as  this.  Ah, 
no,  welcome  as  that  word  is,  I  must  not  hear  it  again  ; 
once,  I  might  have  wished  it,  but  oh,  not  now,  not  now." 

"  Thank  you  for  reminding  me  of  my  duty,"  answered 
Sybil,  with  something  of  her  old  dignity  of  manner, 
though  in  a  bitter  tone.  "  If  I  can,  mark  me,  Mr. 
Vernon,  if  T  can,  I  will  be  to  you  what  you  would  have 
me,  cold  and  distant,"  then  withdrawing  herself  entirely 
from  his  support,  she  uttered  a  piteous  moan  of  exhaus- 
tion and  pain,  and  added  in  a  voice  of  anguish  that  long 
vibrated  in  Vernon's  ear,  "but  you  are  too  cruel,  almost 
too  cruel  to  your  poor  little  suffering  Sybil." 

These  were  the  last  coherent  words  that  Sybil  said  for 
some  days,  for  when  they  lifted  her  from  the  carriage  and 
placed  her  on  the  bed  where  she  once  as  a  child  lay,  a 
brain  fever,  added  to  the  severe  injuries  she  had  sustained, 
brought  on  a  raving  delirium,  and  the  kind  and  skilful 
physician  who  was  sent  for,  plainly  told  Vernon,  who 
besought  him  to  be  candid,  that  he  feared  that  all  his 
care  and  experience  could  not  raise  her  from  her  des- 
perate state  to  health.  And  then  with  as  much  delicacy 
as  he  could,  he  informed  Albert  and  himself  that  they 
must  be  prepared  to  see  her,  whom  they  loved  so  well,  the 
victim  of  a  painful  and  lingering  death  ;  nevertheless, 
while  there  was  life,  there  was  hope,  and  that  much 
depended  upon  unwearied  attention  to  those  dreadful 
burns,  and  careful  watching. 

Careful  watching  !  the  dove  watches  not  her  nestlings 
so  jealously,  nor  the  mother  her  child  more  exclusively 
than  did  those  men,  Vernon  and  Linwood,  watch  the 
poor  sufferer  who  raved  in  delirium  in  that  little  chamber, 
not  indeed  in  any  words  which  could  betray  the  secrets 
14 


314  Vernon  Grove. 

of  her  heart,  but  as  if  the  mention  of  her  cottage-home 
had  brought  back  old  memories  in  her  unconsciousness, 
she  fancied  herself  a  child  once  more,  roaming  in  free- 
dom there  among  the  forest  birds,  and  gathering  wild 
flowers  in  her  path.  Both  were  bound  to  her,  Vernon 
and  Lin  wood,  by  a  triple  cord,  and  all  jealousy,  all  envy 
were  laid  far  away.  Were  she  to  die,  Linwood  felt  that 
the  world  would  be  suddenly  deprived  of  all  interest 
and  beauty;  he  dared  not  contemplate  the  possibility  of 
a  future,  even  though  it  brought  to  him  fame  greater 
than  mortal  had  ever  won  before,  without  the  light  of 
Sybil's  smile.  Sybil  and  Death  !  It  was  madness  to 
breathe  the  two  words  in  connexion.  After  a  life  spent 
together,  a  life  of  perfect  happiness  and  congeniality,  he 
could  fancy  her  hand  hi  hand  with  himself,  calmly  jour- 
neying onward  to  the  grave,  and  should  the  summons 
come  to  her  first,  being  willing  to  part  with  her  only 
because  it  would  be  an  earnest  of  his  soon  rejoining  her 
to  part  never  more. 

Sybil,  dead!  said  Vernon  in  communion  with  himself, 
in  thoughts  which  he  scarcely  dared  to  breathe  to  the 
winds,  she  who,  to  save  him,  had  brought  herself  low 
even  unto  the  gates  of  death :  she  who  had  counted 
suffering  but  a  slight  thing,  so  that  he  suffered  not !  Oh, 
were  she  to  die,  willingly  would  he  make  his  grave  beside 
her,  welcoming  the  pall,  the  bier,  and  even  the  dreaded 
uncertainty  of  the  hereafter,  as  a  happy  exchange  for  the 
positive  pangs  of  acute  suffering  which  such  an  event 
would  bring. 

JBut  Sybil  did  not  die  !  Youth  and  strength  triumphed 
at  last  over  that  terrible  attack,  and  she  awoke  to  con- 
sciousness. Xow  that  her  fearful  and  incoherent  ravings 


Vernon  Grove. 


were  over,  and  all  immediate  danger  past,  the  faithful 
housekeeper,  who  had  been  devoted  to  her  through  her 
illness,  persuaded  Vernon  and  Linwood  to  leave  her 
entirely  to  her  care,  as  the  excitement  of  seeing  them 
and  conversing  with  them  might  occasion  a  relapse,  and 
as  it  was  nearer  to  their  precious  charge  than  the  cottage 
sitting-room,  they  spent  the  greater  part  of  their  time  in 
the  little  entry  which  communicated  with  her  room, 
pacing  to  and  fro,  watching  for  the  tidings  which  were 
brought  them  at  intervals  of  the  welfare  of  the  invalid, 
and  in  arranging  offerings  of  fruit  and  flowers  or  other 
little  gifts  which  they  thought  would  amuse  or  interest 
Sybil,  the  sending  of  which  was  accompanied  always  with 
cheering  messages  of  affection. 

As  Sybil  became  convalescent  and  once  more  was  in- 
terested in  external  objects,  when  the  ticking  of  a  clock 
attracted  her  as  something  which  broke  the  monotony 
of  that  long  season  of  confinement ;  when  a  stray  ray 
of  sunshine  playing  upon  the  wall  assumed  to  her  almost 
the  significance  of  the  real  presence  of  some  cheerful 
visitor ;  and  when  even  the  reminiscences  of  her  old 
attendant,  whose  early  years  were  anything  but  event- 
ful, acquired  a  vast  importance  in  her  lonely  patient's 
estimation,  it  is  not  to  be  wondered  at  that  she  often 
found  herself  trying  to  catch  the  tones  of  Vernon's  and 
Linwood's  voices,  or  that  it  entertained  her  if  she  but 
heard  a  word  now  and  then  from  the  little  neighboring 
entry. 

One  morning,  one  Spring-promising  morning,  her 
attendant  had  purposely  left  the  door  which  led  from 
Sybil's  room  into  the  passage  open,  in  order  to  accus- 
tom her  somewhat  to  the  fresh  air  ere  she  returned  into 


316  Vernon  Grove. 

it,  and  leaving  Sybil  alone  for  a  short  time,  went  to 
attend  to  some  household  arrangement.  Lying  there 
feeling  stronger  and  better  than  she  had  done  for  many 
days,  she  heard  the  voices  of  her  watchful  guardians  in 
conversation,  and  though  hearing  her  own  name  men- 
tioned, and  knowing  that  it  was  almost  a  breach  of  trust 
to  listen,  still  she  had  neither  the  strength  nor  the  will 
to  let  them  know  her  proximity ;  a  kind  of  trance-like 
spell  enveloped  her  faculties  and  kept  her  mute. 

But  that  hour  achieved  more  for  her  than  her  physi- 
cian's most  devoted  attention,  and  while  she  listened 
with  a  smile  upon  her  pale  face,  and  her  eyes  bedewed 
with  grateful  tears,  it  seemed  to  her  as  though  some 
heavenly  visitor  stood  before  her  and  softly  whispered, 
"  Sybil,  behold  your  reward." 

"  This  is  the  third  week  that  she  has  lain  there,"  she 
heard  Albert  say,  "  uncomplaining  and  gentle ;  what 
patient  endurance  is  hers,  what  true  Christian  forbear- 
ance." 

"Yes,"  replied  Vernon,  "Sybil  acts  out  her  princi- 
ples as  one  would  have  the  truly  religious  do ;  when  one 
thinks  of  the  pain  of  a  single  trifling  burn,  and  then 
reflects  on  what  she  has  to  bear,  that  excruciating  agony, 
that  tedious  dressing  of  the  wounds,  that  retaining  for 
hours  the  same  position  without  a  murmur  of  impa- 
tience, one  cannot  but  be  struck  with  her  fortitude. 
Then  add  to  these,  that,  through  which,  thank  God,  she 
has  already  passed,  the  chill  of  ague,  the  burning  thirst 
of  fever  and  its  terrible  restlessness,  all  borne  as  though 
they  were  but  a  feather  laid  upon  her, — the  life  which 
she  has  lived  since  that  fearful  night  is  a  sermon  preach- 
ing better  things  than  a  thousand  eloquent  discourses." 


Vernon  Grove. 


317 


"Hers  is  indeed  a  patient  spirit,"  answered  Albert, 
"  and  it  is  with  no  little  self-congratulation  that  I  think 
that  she  who  is  the  fairest  creation  I  have  ever  seen, 
should  also  be  the  purest  and  best,  and  that  the  example 
of  the  woman  who  is  to  be  my  life-companion  must  ever 
be  a  gracious  one  to  me.  What  an  unenviable  fate 
would  mine  have  been  had  I,  with  my  love  of  the  beau- 
tiful, chosen  a  wife  whose  attractions  were  merely  in 
the  outward  adorning  and  not  in  the  perfection  of  the 
inner  life." 

"You  are  fortunate,"  replied  Vernon,  scarcely  re- 
pressing a  sigh,  "  and  when  I  resign  her  to  you,  it  will 
be  with  this  testimony,  that  it  was  she  who  first  planted 
the  germ  of  resignation  and  religious  feeling  in  my 
breast.  Often  the  poor  child  has  seen  it  wither  and 
fade,  but  by  her  prayers  and  tears  has  guarded  and 
watered  it  until  it  has  grown  into  a  wide-spreading 
branch  ;  not  that  I  boast  of  it,  Linwood,  for  we  are 
talking  now  as  man  to  man,  with  freedom  and  unreserve, 
but  because  I  rejoice  that  her  prayers  are  answered,  and 
that  she,  with  her  innocent  trust,  has  made  me  almost 
what  her  aspirations  have  aimed  at,  one  who  humbly, 
and  with  a  need  of  His  mercy,  loves  and  fears  God." 

Sybil  crossed  her  bruised  hands  upon  her  breast,  and 
raised  her  eyes  upwards  as  though  her  glance  could 
pierce  the  inner  heaven,  and  though  feeling  happier 
than  she  had  ever  been  on  earth  before,  she  longed  at 
that  moment  for  the  power  to  take  wings  and  utter  her 
gratitude  and  delight  for  the  words  she  had  heard  from 
Yernon,  at  the  very  throne  of  the  Almighty  Father. 

It  was  thus  that  her  attendant  found  her  on  her 
return  with  that  rapt  angelic  look,  so  much  more  beau- 


318  Vernon  Grove. 

t if ul  than  ever,  so  luminous  with  purity  and  joy,  and  re- 
membering that  she  had  promised  to  allow  Vernon  and 
Limvood  to  come  in  for  a  few  minutes  to  see  her  young 
charge,  now  was  the  time  she  thought,  when  a  iiiint 
color  blushed  in  her  cheeks,  and  her  eyes  glistened 
almost  with  the  brightness  of  health,  to  redeem  that 
promise. 

Telling  Sybil  that  her  laithful  friends  desired  to  con- 
gratulate her  upon  being  so  much  better,  she  asked  her 
permission  to  allow  them  to  enter. 

"  Yes,"  said  she  gladly,  "  let  them  come  in ;  how 
faithful,  how  constant  they  have  been." 

"  But  only  for  a  few  minutes,"  said  the  careful  nurse, 
charging  Sybil  not  to  exert  herself  by  conversation,  and 
with  another  look  at  her  patient  to  see  if  the  rosy  flush 
still  remained,  she  went  to  acquaint  Yernon  and  Lin- 
wood  with  the  joyful  intelligence  that  her  patient  would 
see  them. 

She  was  the  Sybil,  and  yet  not  the  Sybil  that  Lin- 
wood  had  last  seen ;  the  first  was  of  earth,  the  other  a 
vision  from  heaven. 

She  was  lying  half-propped  up  by  pillows,  with  her 
face  in  full  relief  against  their  snowy  whiteness ;  her 
brow  was  marble-like  in  its  pallor,  her  lips  like  those  of 
a  carved  statue,  not  crimsoned  as  Sybil's  had  once  been 
with  the  rose-bud  hue  of  health,  but  almost  colorless, 
while  her  cheeks  were  so  faintly  tinged  with  the  rose 
that  one  might  have  thought  their  blush  a  reflection  of 
the  skies  at  dawn.  Her  hair,  always  floating  in  natural 
curls  on  either  side  of  her  brow,  was  now  put  back  from 
her  face  in  a  smooth  mass  like  a  cluster  of  pale  golden 
threads,  while  over  her  bosom  in  graceful  folds,  lay  her 


Vernon  Grove.  319 

white  robe,  with  its  delicate  edging  of  lace,  giving  addi- 
tional softness  and  purity  to  the  whole. 

Sybil  was  the  first  to  speak. 

"How  good,  how  kind  you  have  been,"  she  said, 
looking  from  one  to  the  other  with  moistened  eyes. 
She  glanced  over  at  Linwood,  but  upon  Vernon  her 
gaze  rested  with  lingering  fondness. 

Led  by  the  sound  of  her  voice,  Vernon  stepped  for- 
ward to  take  her  hand,  the  common,  every-day  act  of 
the  blind  man's  life,  something  that  stood  in  lieu  of  a 
sympathising  expression  which  others  could  throw  into 
their  eyes. 

Sybil  stopped  him  as  h'e  approached.  "  You  forget," 
said  she  playfully,  "  that  a  burn  is  a  long  time  in  healing, 
and  no  lily-white  hand  can  I  offer  you  as  did  the  dames 
in  days  of  old.  My  faithful  knights  must  live  in  hope 
that  one  day  I  may  fasten  a  favor  on  their  shields,  when 
the  bandages  from  my  poor  disfigured  hands  are 
removed." 

"  Forgive  me  for  my  thoughtlessness,"  replied  Vernon 
while  he  turned  away  from  Sybil  that  she  might  not  see 
on  his  face  the  anguish  that  he  felt.  "  I  forgot  for  one 
moment  that  terrible  experience  in  my  joy  at  hearing 
your  voice  again.  Would  to  God,  Sybil,  that  mine  had 
been  the  fate  to  perish  that  night  in  the  flames  if  it 
would  have  saved  you  from  a  single  instant  of  suffering." 

It  was  far  from  Sybil's  thoughts  to  awaken  any  sad 
memories,  or  to  have  that  visit  aught  but  a  cheerful  one, 
and  hasting  to  change  the  conversation,  she  dwelt  upon 
the  pleasures  which  were  in  store  for  her,  and  listened 
gladly  to  the  plans  which  Albert  and  Vernon  had  been 
laying  for  her,  until  the  minutes  allotted  to  them  by  the 


320  Vernon  Grove. 

nurse  passed  swiftly  away,  and  she  warned  them  that 
the  time  had  expired.  While  she  was  guiding  Vernon 
out  into  the  passage,  Sybil  beheld  with  a  terrible  sinking 
of  the  heart  that  Albert  remained  behind. 

"Sybil,  my  own,  my  beautiful,"  he  whispered,  "I 
thought  I  loved  you  once,  but  my  love  for  you  was  weak 
compared  with  the  almost  worship  that  I  feel  for  you 
now.  Could  you  not  speak  one  word  of  affection  to  be 
to  me  a  memory,  a  joy,  until  I  see  you  again  ?" 

Her  lips  tried  to  articulate,  but  no  word  reached  his 
ear,  while  a  spasm  like  that  of  pain  crossed  her  face,  and 
her  white  lids  closed  helplessly  over  her  eyes. 

"  You  must  go  now,  Mr.  Linwood,"  said  the  affrighted 
attendant,  who  glanced  at  Sybil  as  she  returned,  "  am  I 
not  right,  Miss  Sybil  ?" 

"  Yes,  yes,"  was  the  impatient  answer,  and  when  the 
door  was  closed  upon  him,  Sybil  alarmed  her  nurse,  who 
had  no  key  to  her  words,  and  thought  that  her  delirium 
•was  returning  by  her  wild  manner,  and  wilder  expres- 
sion. 

"  This  cannot,  shall  not  last,"  she  said,  "  I  must  end 
it,  or  I  must  die." 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

"  Farewell ;  farewell ;  may  never  come  to  thee 
These  bitter  tears  now  sadly  crushing  me, 
/  give  thee  up,  — thy  good  requires  my  pain, 
And  thou  shalt  never  hear  from  me  again 
Affection's  words — nor  shall  thy  eyes  e'er  see 
One  look  that  speaks  a  lingering  love  for  thee, 
For  I  have  given  thee  up." 

"  "Pis  better  to  have  loved  and  lost 
Than  never  to  have  loved  at  all." 

HEALTH  came  once  more  to  Sybil,  as  the  rosy  dawn 
overspreads  the  morning  sky.  First  with  a  pale  flush, 
then  a  rosier  gleam,  and  then  a  blushing  red.  She  was 
waiting  for  her  full  strength  to  perform  a  duty,  the  neg- 
lecting of  which  haunted  her  like  a  nightmare,  and  which 
she  knew  must  not  long  be  deferred,  and  at  last  she  felt 
that  the  hour  had  arrived. 

Vernon  spent  most. of  his  time  at  the  Grove,  endea- 
voring to  lay  plans  to  remedy  the  ruin  which  reigned 
there,  and  it  was  well  that  he  thus  had  an  object  to  dis- 
tract him  from  gloomy  thought.  He  tried  to  cheat 
himself  into  the  idea  that  he  was  becoming  more  light- 
hearted  and  cheerful,  when  in  fact  he  was  only  endea- 
voring, for  the  sake  of  those  whom  he  loved,  to  cultivate 
cheerfulness,  and  when  he  returned  to  the  cottage  at 
evening,  though  a  heavy  and  sad  heart  lay  beneath,  his 
14* 


322  Vernon  Grove. 

was  the  merriest  laugh,  he  the  most  buoyant  of  the  trio 
there. 

One  morning  when  Vernon  had  thus  left  Sybil  and 
Albert  together,  to  enjoy,  as  he  imagined,  as  fond  lovers, 
the  sweet  freshness  of  the  day,  the  coming  Spring  time, 
and  the  luxury  of  quiet  interchange  of  thought,  Sybil 
proposed  a  drive  through  the  beautiful  woods  which 
surrounded  the  cottage  as  a  sure  means  of  entirely 
restoring  her  to  her  wonted  strength.  She  had  not  mis- 
calculated the  effect  which  she  thought  it  would  produce, 
and  it  was  after  her  return,  when  her  limbs  were  stronger, 
her  blood  bounding  healthily  through  her  veins,  her  heart, 
even,  braver  for  the  fresh  morning  air,  that  she  said  to 
herself — "  Now  I  will  do  what  I  must  do,  even  though 
to  Albert  I  bring  a  sorrow  incurable,  and  gain  coldness 
and  disapproval  and  a  second  banishment  at  Mr.  Ver- 
non's  hands,  for  I  will  not  be  false  to  myself  and  God 
another  day." 

There  were  in  the  little  cottage  parlor  Sybil  and  Al- 
bert. The  season  was  that  of  late  Winter,  when  the  mid- 
day is  a  foretaste  of  Spring.  The  evergreen  trellised 
vine,  which  Sybil  had  trained  as  a  child,  hung  through 
the  open  casement  into  the  room,  and  the  sunbeams 
flickered  through  the  leaves  and  played  lazily  upon  the 
floor  at  Sybil's  feet.  The  air  brought  with  it  a  drowsy 
influence  unfitting  one  for  action ;  the  birds  hopped 
noiselessly  from  branch  to  branch  ;  the  cattle  in  the  dis- 
tance were  passively  lying  in  the  fields ;  everything 
breathed  of  the  fulness  of  rest.  All  nature  seemed  plot- 
ting against  Sybil  and  the  Avork  which  she  had  to  do. 
In  the  still  air,  the  cloudless  sky,  the  silent  earth,  there 
seemed  to  be  a  pause,  but  had  an  angel  appeared  beckon- 


Vernon  Grove. 


323 


ing  her  out  to  wander  in  Paradise,  she  would  have 
said  calmly — "  By-and-by ;  now  there  is  something  for 
me  to  do." 

She  sat  in  a  low  chair  by  the  window  with  the  dreamy 
influence  of  that  brilliant  noon  upon  her,  with  no  remains 
of  her  illness  lingering  about  her,  save  a  faint  scar  upon 
her  hands,  which  she  almost  hoped  for  the  sake  of  the 
memory  it  brought  would  never  entirely  be  efiaced. 
Albert  leant  over  her  and  was  saying  something  play- 
fully about  her  brilliant  color,  and  how  well  it  would 
contrast  one  day,  not  far  in  the  future,  with  white  orange 
blossoms.  They  looked  happy  lovers — they  were — 
what  ?  Their  words  will  show. 

She  could  not  mistake  his  meaning,  and  with  a  start 
woke  into  life. 

"  Sit  down,  Albert,"  she  said,  "  here  before  me ;  I  have 
something  to  say  to  you." 

So  seldom  did  Sybil  express  a  wish  in  Linwood's  pre- 
sence, that  ere  it  was  well  uttered,  he  dropt  the  ringlet 
of  gold  which  he  had  caressingly  coiled  around  his  finger 
and  obeyed  her,  and  sitting  full  in  the  light  of  her  eyes 
awaited  what  would  follow.  Then  she  gazed  quietly, 
steadily,  at  him  as  though  she  would  read  his  very  soul 
and  measure  what  he  could  bear  mentally,  he  who  loved 
her  so. 

Albert  took  her  hand,  while  she  scarcely  observed  the 
action,  so  absorbed  was  she  in  thought,  and  pressed  it  to 
his  lips. 

"  Ah,  this  little  hand,"  he  said  fondly,  "  this  little 
scarred  hand ;  tell  me,  Sybil,  when  shall  I  have  the  right 
to  call  it  my  own  ?" 

Sybil,  still  gazing  down  into  his  eyes  with  that  search- 


324  Vernon  Grove. 

ing  glance  so  unlike  every  other  glance  of  hers,  which 
had  ever  before  been  turned  away  from  his,  firmly  drew 
her  hand  away. 

"  Albert,"  she  said,  "  you  must  bear  patiently  with 
me,  you  must  listen  calmly  to  me.  I  am  about  to  tell 
you  something  which  will  make  us  both  sorrowful  all  of 
our  lives,  but  not  to  say  it  would  bring  to  me  madness. 
Promise  me  that  you  will  not  frighten  me  by  any  demon- 
stration of  violence,  for  I  feel  that  undue  excitement 
might  carry  me  back  to  those  fearful  hours  of  delirium 
through  which  I  have  so  lately  passed." 

"  Anything  that  you  have  to  say,"  he  answered  with 
assumed  calmness,  "  I  am  ready  and  willing  to  hear." 

"Then  I  will  say  it  at  once,"  she  replied,  turning  away 
from  him  at  last  the  fixed  gaze  of  her  eyes.  "  It  would 
be  hypocrisy  to  act  towards  you  any  longer  as  if  I  did 
or  ever  could  love  you.  For  Mr.  Yemen's  sake  whose 
wish  it  is,  and  for  yours,  I  have  tried  with  earnest  pray- 
ers to  accustom  myself  to  the  idea  that  in  you,  I  should 
at  last  find  that  peace  and  happiness  which  one  would 
naturally  expect,  situated  as  we  have  been.  I  have 
schooled  my  heart,  I  have  put  fetters  on  my  free  soul  in 
vain.  That  the  fault  is  altogether  independent  of  your- 
self, that  you  are  all  tenderness  and  goodness,  and  that 
I  am  ungrateful  and  wicked  almost,  I  humbly  confess ; 
but  why  waste  words  upon  the  prelude  ?  Albeit  Lin- 
wood,  I  can  never  be  your  wife." 

Linwood's  face  had  gradually  assumed  an  expression 
of  mute  despair,  and  then  when  the  whole  truth  came, 
he  bent  his  head  slowly  and  held  his  hand  before  his  eyes 
as  though  to  avert  some  horrible  doom  which  would 
crush  him  to  death.  He  did  not  weep,  he  did  not  moan ; 


Vernon  Grove.  325 

Sybil  would  have  been  glad  had  he  done  either ;  any- 
thing was  better  than  that  deep  dead  silence,  that  up- 
raised arm  and  deprecating  look,  the  quivering  which 
passed  over  that  strong  man's  frame. 

"  Albert,"  she  said  softly,  removing  his  hand  from  that 
fixed  posture  of  despair  and  looking  upon  him  pityingly, 
"let  me  be  to  you  a  sister,  a  friend;  speak  to  me;  tell 
me  that  what  I  have  done  has  not  made  you  hate  me." 

"  Hate  you  /"  he  answered  in  a  voice  of  unutterable 
tenderness,  "it  would  be  hard  to  do  that  beloved." 
Then  changing  his  tone  and  looking  at  her  fiercely,  he 
continued — "  And  yet  I  ought  to  hate  you ;  I  ought  to 
hate  one  who,  by  a  few  utterances,  things  called  words 
that  have  the  power  to  blast  a  life  for  ever,  has  taken 
away  in  an  instant  of  time  hope,  joy,  happiness,  and  left 
me  desolate,  ay,  desolate,  Sybil,  take  it  in  its  full  wide 
meaning  and  bring  it  home  to  yourself.  Reverse  the 
case,"  he  said,  with  increasing  excitement,  grasping  her 
wrist  and  compelling  her  to  listen  to  him,  "  suppose  that 
you  had  learned  to  love  some  favored  one  with  your 
whole  being,  that  never  prayer  was  uttered  by  you 
which  included  not  that  other,  that  you  looked  forward 
to  a  life  spent  with  him  as  a  consummation  of  bliss  not 
ending  here,  but  continuing  on  into  eternity; — then 
imagine  some  terrible  fate  coming  betweeti  you  and  the 
loved  one,  more  terrible  than  if  the  man  dying  of  thirst 
should  htf  denied  water,  the  weary  man  rest.  Would 
you  not  be  tempted,  mind  you,  only  tempted,  to  curse 
that  fate  ?" 

"  And  so  you  curse  me,  Albert  ?"  she  said  mourn- 
fully, '•'•pray  rather  for  those  who  despitefully  use  you 
and  persecute  you." 


326  Vernon  Grove. 

"  Xo,  no,"  said  he,  drawing  her  towards  him  with 
inexpressible  tenderness  of  manner,  "how  can  I  curse 
what  is  mine,  and  you  know  that  you  are  mine,  Sybil, 
now  and  for  ever.  There  is  no  escape  from  a  promise 
given  calmly  and  willingly  as  you  gave  yours.  Sybil,  I 
cannot  let  you  go,  you  are  too  precious,  too  much  a  part 
of  my  very  life  ;  yes,  thank  God,  you  are  mine." 

Alas  for  Sybil,  her  task  became  more  difficult  each 
moment ;  it  was  almost  as  hard  to  gain  her  end  as  to 
live  the  false  unnatural  life  of  the  past  few  months,  but 
she  had  plunged  boldly  into  the  stream,  and  nought 
remained  for  her  but  to  seek,  with  what  strength  she 
could,  the  opposite  shore. 

"I  know,"  she  said,  "I  know  that  you  have  my 
promise  to  be  yours,  and  that  you  love  me.  It  is 
because  you  do  love  me  so  fervently  that  I  make  this 
appeal  to  you.  Oh,  Albert,  you  would  never  be  quite 
happy,  with  your  exacting  nature,  in  a  life  without 
affection  on  my  part ;  there  would  always  be  a  cloud 
over  our  home  as  if  God  had  forgotten  us  in  dealing  out 
his  sunshine ;  our  mornings  would  be  cheerless,  our 
evenings  gloomy,  because  of  the  want  of  perfect  sym- 
pathy, and  I  feel,  I  feel  in  my  inmost  heart  that  ours 
would  not  be  the  true  life.  There  is  a  better,  a  happier 
state  of  being,  when  the  pnlses  bound  at  the  sound  of  a 
beloved  voice,  when  the  blood  runs  swifter  at  the 
approach  of  a  coming  step,  when  the  heart,  satisfied 
with  its  destiny,  says,  '  I  am  content !'  This  could  never 
be  our  united  experience,"  said  Sybil,  her  cheek  kind- 
ling at  the  picture  she  had  called  up.  "  Then  let  me 
appeal  to  the  very  love  which  you  have  for  me,  to 
release  me  from  the  promise,  Which  I  gave  before  I  had 


Vernon  Grove. 


327 


a  realizing  sense  that  I  was  acting  out  a  grievous  wrong, 
a  sin.  Say  but  four  words,  Albert,  four  simple  words 
spoken  because  of  your  generous  nature;  if  only 
breathed  in  a  whisper  I  shall  hear  them;  say  to  me, 
'  Sybil,  you  are  free.'  " 

In  the  earnestness  of  her  appeal,  she  arose  and  laid 
her  hand  upon  Albert's,  while  her  beseeching  eyes  were 
raised  expectantly  to  his.  She  might  have  said  as  other 
women  had  said  before,  after  a  solemn  promise  to  be 
constant, — "  Go," — one  word  having  the  power  and  sig- 
nificance of  many,  but  the  memory  of  perjury  would 
have  haunted  her  through  a  lifetime.  She  wished  him 
to  resign  her  by  an  act  of  his  own  will. 

There  was  a  pause  a  long,  painful  pause ;  a  mighty 
struggle  raged  in  Linwood's  breast ;  he  felt  like  a  ship- 
wrecked mariner  who  sees  that  the  frail  plank  to  which 
he  clings  must  inevitably  be  swept  from  his  grasp,  and 
yet  with  the  certainty  of  his  doom  hanging  over  him,  is 
loath  to  loosen  his  frantic  hold. 

"  Have  patience  with  me,  dearest,"  he  said  at  last, 
"  you  have  appealed  to  my  love,  that  strong,  absorbing, 
second  nature  of  mine ;  have  patience  with  me  awhile ; 
I  would  be  alone  with  my  thoughts,  and  make  the  trial 
in  imagination,  to  see  if  I  can  do  what  you  ask ;  like  the 
martyrs  of  old,  I  would  measure  my  strength  of  endur- 
ance and  consider  if  I  could  bear  unflinchingly  the  cruel 
tortures,  the  fierce  devouring  flames  which  assail  me  and 
which  at  last  must  reach  my  heart." 

Saying  these  words  he  put  her  away  from  him  gently, 
and  paced  the  room  restlessly,  as  though  he  were  a 
criminal  pacing  his  narrow  cell.  His  eyes  rested  upon 
her  not  for  a  single  instant,  he  seemed  to  be  oblivious 


328  Vernon  Grove. 

to  her  presence ;  his  thoughts  all  introverted,  himself 
was  the  one  subject  of  his  contemplation. 

At  last  there  was  a  cessation  in  that  quick  nervous 
tread  and  he  stood  before  her  and  gazed  at  her  long  and 
earnestly.  His  look  was  haggard,  his  whole  expression 
was  changed,  and  years  of  suffering  seemed  to  be 
stamped  upon  his  face. 

"  Sybil,  look  up,"  he  said,  "  if  upon  the  outer  man  is 
pictured  what  I  feel  within,  then  there  will  be  something 
for  you  to  remember  in  all  the  years  of  the  future. 
Not,  dearest,  that  I  would  have  the  memory  a  suffer- 
ing, a  sorrow,  but  because  I  would  have  you  feel  that 
it  is  no  light  thing  to  which  you  have  appealed,  no  pass- 
ing fancy,  but  a  principle  of  my  life  mingling  with  my 
being,  as  the  heart  throbs  in  my  breast,  or  the  blood 
flows  in  my  body ;  had  my  love  been  less,  had  it  been 
selfish,  did  I  not  count  myself  as  nothing  in  comparison 
with  your  peace  and  happiness,  this  sacrifice  would 
never  have  been  made,  but  since  you  wish  it,  dearest ; — 
Sybil,  you  are  free  /" 

Her  joy  told  itself  in  her  suddenly  clasped  hands  and 
an  inadvertent,  "Oh!  Albert,  I  thank  you." 

"  She  thanks  me,  oh,  God !"  he  exclaimed  bitterly, 
"  she  thanks  me,  she  might  have  spared  me  that." 

"  Forgive  me,"  said  Sybil,  her  eyes  filling  with  tears, 
"  I  only  meant." 

"  You  meant  what  you  said,"  he  answered  mournfully, 
"  and  I  must  not  blame  you  for  your  truth ;  but  oh,  my 
beloved,  my  own  precious  one,  my  lost  treasure, — the 
years  will  be  very  dreary  to  me  now ;  summer  will 
bring  me  no  sunshine,  winter  no  joyous  fireside,  time  no 
glad  elastic  renewal  of  youth.  Stars  will  shine,  but  not 


Vernon  Grove.  329 

for  me,  Sybil,  for  you  alone  gave  beauty  to  my  life,  and 
you  alone  can  take  that  beauty  away.  Remember  me, 
dearest,  as  ever  thinking  of  you,  ever  praying  for  your 
welfare,  and  so  mingling  your  memory  with  each  noble 
inspiration,  each  successful  effort,  each  triumph  in  my 
profession,  that  my  love  of  you  and  love  of  it  will  be 
one  and  the  same.  Every  blue  sky  will  tell  me  of  your 
eyes,  dearest,  those  tender  soul-eyes  that  won  me  with 
their  wondrous  beauty ;  every  golden  sunset  remind  me 
of  your  wealth  of  rippling  hair ;  every  line  of  grace  in 
earth  or  air  bring  me  in  thought  to  you.  Say  to  Ver- 
non that  I  have  gone,  for  I  cannot  see  him  with  this 
weight  of  anguish  crushing  me,  gone  for  ever  from  him 
and  you.  Yes,  I  must  go,"  he  answered  in  reply  to  her 
appealing  look,  "for  were  I  to  stay,  my  eyes  would 
haunt  you  ever  with  their  mute  sorrow,  while  turning 
upon  you  especially  their  old  loving  glance.  And  now, 
Sybil,  farewell ;  if  you  ever  think  of  me,  if  ever  you  say 
to  yourself '  Where  is  the  wanderer  now  ?'  imagine  me 
as  toiling  for  fame,  not  for  any  joy  it  might  bring  me, 
but  simply  as  an  object  in  life,  something  to  sweeten  a 
bitter  memory,  something  to  blunt  the  sharp  point  of  an 
eternal  agony.  Seated  there  with  your  head  bowed  and 
revelling  perchance  in  your  release  like  an  uncaged 
bird  (I  blame  you  not,  dear  love),  you  little  know  at 
what  a  price  you  have  bought  your  freedom ;  behold  in 
it  a  crowning  sacrifice  of  affection,  the  very  perfection 
of  love,  yes,  Sybil,  you  are/ree." 

Softly  he  raised  her  head  and  kissed  her  brow,  and 
smiling  strangely  that  she  wept,  bade  her  not  waste  her 
tears  upon  his  sorrows — then  laying  his  hands  linger- 


330  Vernon  Grove. 

ingly  upon  her  fair  drooping  head,  he  looked  once  again 
at  her  wondrous  beauty,  as  though  to  impress  it  unfad- 
ingly  upon  his  memory,  and  departed  from  her  path 
for  ever. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

"The  banquet  and  the  song; 
By  day  the  tourney,  and  by  night 
The  merry  dance  traced  far  and  light, 
The  masquers  quaint,  the  pageant  bright, 
The  revel  loud  and  long." 

"  Rich  ?  ask'st  those  if  he's  rich  ?    Observe  me.  Sir  1 
His  money  bags  are  torpid  they're  so  full! 
Crammed,  glutton-like,  with  lumps  of  spendthrift  gold, 
That  swell  their  sides  and  sleep!" 

BARRY  CORNWALL. 

"  Good  resolves  a  moment  hot, 
Fairly  begun  but  finished  not." 

MR.  CLAYTON'S  house  was  still  a  central  point  of  gaiety, 
and  Isabel  a  star  that  shed  lustre  over  it,  but  at  times 
there  was  an  inexplicable  expression  of  joy  in  her  lovely 
face  which  was  apart  from,  and  independent  of  the 
crowd  who  gathered  nightly  around  her,  a  look  as 
though  she  were  listening  to  music  unheard  by  other 
ears,  or  saw  beautiful  forms  visible  only  to  herself.  But 
her  secret,  whatever  it  was,  did  not  interrupt  her  life  of 
thoughtless  pleasure,  for  who  so  exquisitely  attired,  so 
bent  upon  enjoyment,  so  glittering  with  costly  gems  as 
the  fair  mistress  of  that  palace-home  ? 

Nor  was  its  master  changed  in  aught  since  the  open- 
ing of  our  story  save  in  the  outward  bodily  change  that 


332  Vernon  Grove. 

years  had  made.  Now,  as  then,  he  was  flushed  with 
success ;  everything  that  he  touched  seemed  to  turn  to 
gold ;  no  speculation,  however  wild,  but  yielded  him 
abundantly,  no  investment  so  extravagant  but  that  it 
brought  him  a  return  tenfold. 

Pale  hollow-eyed  men,  harassed  with  toil  and  failure, 
besought  this  flourishing  Croesus  for  his  assistance  or 
simply  his  advice,  since  he  was  so  successful  in  all  that 
he  undertook ;  but  the  last  he  was  not  always  ready  to 
give,  because  it  might  teach  them  his  secret  of  luck — the 
first  never.  Heads  of  charity  societies  appealed  to  him 
in  vain.  What  had  he  to  do  with  charity,  when  he  paid 
an  exorbitant  tax  to  support  the  poor  ?  Little  bare-footed 
children  pleaded  with  him  for  a  penny  for  some  starving 
mother,  but  he  scowled  forbiddingly  upon  their  upturned 
faces,  and  sent  them  away  empty-handed. 

White  hairs  silvered  his  head,  reminding  him  of  the 
flight  of  time;  death  aimed  a  fatal  arrow  at  friends  and 
companions  to  tell  him  that  the  grave  was  the  end  of  all, 
and  still  the  toil  was  only  for  gold — no  other  treasure 
did  he  lay  up  than  that. 

Albert  Linwood  had  entered  like  a  shadow  among 
them,  and  like  a  shadow  had  passed  by.  In  a  few  words 
to  Isabel,  he  had  told  her  what  had  come  to  pass,  and 
then  bade  her  farewell  for  ever.  Something  like  a  tear 
dimmed  her  eyes  as  she  listened  to  his  touching  words, 
but  a  thoughtless  smile  succeeded  almost  before  he  had 
passed  from  her  sight ;  she  had  other  things  to  think  of 
besides  the  story  of  another's  sorrow. 

To  Florence,  when  Isabel  carelessly  related  the  account 
of  Linwood's  visit  and  its  cause,  the  intelligence  came 
like  a  death-blow.  Her  existence  suddenly  became  a 


Vernon  Grove.  333 

blank,  for  her  schemes  had  proved  useless,  her  toils  futile, 
her  life  a  wreck — made  so  by  her  own  imprudence  and 
folly.  With  no  object  to  interest  her,  more  and  more 
restless  she  became,  more  and  more  repining  and  discon- 
tented, until  even  Isabel  deserted  her  once  intimate 
friend,  or  welcomed  her  only  when  she  could  be  enter- 
taining and  cheerful  to  her  guests  or  herself. 

The  soft  mild  earnest  of  Spring  which  saw  the  parting 
between  Sybil  and  Albert,  was  followed  by  a  spell  of 
severe  and  almost  unprecedented  cold,  one  of  those 
atmospheric  phenomena  for  which  there  is  no  accounting, 
when  the  chilling  ice  and  snow,  treading  close  upon  a 
genial  smile  of  nature,  blight  the  fair  promise  of  a  season 
of  fruit  and  flowers.  The  ice  hung  hi  long  festoons 
upon  the  newly-budding  trees,  the  sod  was  frozen  and 
hard,  the  sleet  came  down  in  one  white  pitiless  sheet, 
and  the  sudden  change  of  temperature  was  a  trying 
ordeal  even  for  those  who  were  housed  and  comfortable. 

But  upon  the  poor,  especially  the  improvident  poor, 
the  visitation  of  another  wintry  spell  was  an  unlooked-for 
event — the  more  so  because  the  unusual  severity  of  the 
weather  shut  them  out  from  many  employments  that  it 
was  their  custom  to  be  engaged  in  ;  but  though  neither 
help  nor  advice  were  withheld  by  those  who  had  their 
welfare  at  heart,  the  demand  for  money  to  supply  their 
necessities  was  so  great  that  their  friends  almost  de- 
spaired, under  the  new  appeals  which  were  made  to  them 
for  succor,  to  satisfy  even  their  moderate  demands.  In 
answer  to  one  who  was  interested  in  their  destitute  con- 
dition, and  who  applied  to  Mr.  Clayton  for  a  mite  from 
his  overflowing  treasury,  he  replied  coldly  that  he  had 
nothing  to  spare,  inasmuch  as  if  he  gave  to  one  he 


334  Vernon  Grove. 

would  be  obliged  to  give  to  all  the  applicants  who  daily 
besieged  his  doors.  Failing  to  move  Clayton's  stony 
heart,  and  knowing  the  thousands  that  he  bestowed  on 
useless  luxuries,  the  zealous  advocate  was  not  to  be 
discouraged,  but  sent  his  wife  to  the  rich  man's  wife  with 
a  touching  account  of  a  family  in  utter  poverty,  whom 
she  might  relieve  by  a  trifling  amount  spared  from  her 
superfluities. 

The  weather  was  cold,  as  I  have  said,  and  the  day 
particularly  so  when  the  appeal  was  made.  In  a  luxu- 
rious chair,  whose  downy  cushions  alone  would  have 
imparted  warmth  to  a  freezing  body,  sat  Mrs.  Clayton, 
when  the  friend  of  the  poor  was  ushered  into  her  pre- 
sence. A  glowing  fire  burnt  upon  the  hearth,  a  foot- 
warmer  supported  the  feet  of  the  dainty  lady  whose  form 
was  wrapped  in  a  superb  cashmere  robe,  lined  and 
doubly  lined  for  warmth,  and  the  cold  air  was  excluded 
by  every  contrivance  that  art  and  ingenuity  could 
fashion. 

She  was  watching  the  snow-flakes,  as  they  softly 
descended,  with  a  dreamy  smile  upon  her  face ;  her  eyes 
were  directed  towards  the  window,  but  her  thoughts 
took  a  wider  range  and  dwelt  upon  the  future,  the 
coming  eventful  latter  days  of  Spring,  when  she  trusted 
that  upon  her  breast,  as  lightly  as  laid  those  feathery 
flakes  upon  the  earth,  a  little  child  would  rest  as  pure  as 
they, — that  long-wished-for  long-denied  gift  of  God,  the 
secret  of  her  happy  mysterious  smile. 

The  door  opened  and  a  servant  approached  and  said 
to  her  that  a  lady  without  desired  to  see  her  upon  a 
matter  of  importance. 

"  Show  her  in,"  said  Isabel,  quite  willing  to  be  amused 


Vernon  Grove. 


335 


or  interested  by  any  one ;  "  bring  more  coal  and  keep 
the  fire  glowing  this  freezing  day." 

The  servant  left  her  and  ushered  in  the  humble  and 
conscientious  pleader  of  the  poor  man's  cause.  Well- 
bred  and  refined  as  she  evidently  was,  she  could  not 
repress  a  look  of  astonishment  and  curiosity  at  the 
luxury  around,  but  soon  remembering  her  errand,  she 
thus  stated  the  case  : 

"  They  live,"  she  said,  "  this  poor  family,  in  the  worst 
hovel  ever  seen  ;  nothing  but  a  crazy  shutter  excludes 
the  cold,  and  when  it  rains,  the  floor,  from  the  dilapi- 
dated condition  of  the  roof,  is  inundated  with  water. 
They  have  no  money  because  the  father  can  obtain  no 
work,  and  the  mother  is  too  ill  to  think  of  exerting  her- 
self in  any  way  for  their  maintenance.  The  worst  fea- 
ture of  the  case  is,  that  a  little  child  who  might  be 
relieved  by  timely  aid — a  bright-eyed  nursling  of  only 
six  weeks  old — must  soon  die  unless  it  can  obtain  the 
nourishment  which  the  mother  is  too  weak  to  give 
it." 

"  Ah,  then,  they  have  an  infant,"  said  Isabel,  showing 
for  the  first  time  an  interest  in  the  recital ;  "  and  is  it 
pretty  and  attractive,  and  has  it  sweet  winning  ways  ?" 

"  That  I  scarcely  know,"  replied  her  visitor ;  "  all  that 
I  do  know  is,  that  the  child  is  very  near  death,  and  we 
have  had  so  many  calls  upon  us  lately,  that  it  is  impossi- 
ble to  assist  these  as  effectually  as  we  would  like  to. 
Could  you  not  from  your  abundance  spare  enough  to 
keep  that  father  from  despair,  and  the  mother  and  child 
from  starvation  ?" 

Isabel's  heart  was  touched  ;  she  expected  her  purse  to 
be  plentifully  replenished  in  the  evening,  when  her  hus- 


336  Vernon  Grove. 

band  returned,  she.  said,  nnd  then  would  send  an  abun- 
dant supply  of  money  to  relieve  their  necessities. 

Her  visitor  then  carefully  designated  where  the  dona- 
tion was  to  be  sent,  and  was  most  particular  in  her 
directions;  a  neighbor,  she  said,  as  poor  almost  as  they 
were,  who  had  rendered  many  a  service  to  the  suffering 
family,  would  be  the  recipient  of  the  donation,  and  lay 
it  out  in  a  judicious  way  for  their  comfort.  Then  calling 
heaven's  blessing  upon  Isabel's  head,  with  grateful 
acknowledgments,  she  departed. 

Mrs.  Clayton  passed  the  remainder  of  the  morning  ab- 
sorbed in  a  new  novel,  and  forgot,  in  imaginary  griefs,  the 
real  ones  of  which  she  had  heard,  when  the  dinner  hour 
arrived  and  her  husband  returned.  He  shook  the 
feathery  flakes  of  snow  from  his  dress  in  a  playful  man- 
ner, and  looked  as  though  he  had  enjoyed  the  frore  air 
without,  so  well  had  he  been  protected  by  furs  and  the 
warmest  garments  against  its  severity.  His  spirits  were 
high,  too,  and  he  entertained  Isabel  with  an  account  of 
that  day's  glorious  achievements,  in  which  he  had  out- 
witted two  sharp  business  men,  and  had  come  off  victo- 
rious with  several  extra  hundreds.  The  dinner  passed 
cheerfully ;  then  came  Isabel's  siesta,  an  hour  of  deep 
and  uninterrupted  repose,  almost  always  necessary 
because  of  her  late  hours  and  evenings  of  excitement. 
On  this  afternoon,  too,  she  had  especial  need  of  rest,  in 
order  to  be  able,  with  refreshed  spirits,  to  attend  a  grand 
festival  which  had  occupied  her  thoughts  for  many  days, 
a  fancy  ball,  in  which  she  was  to  appear  in  the  character 
of  Night. 

Her  sleep  was  long  and  refreshing,  and  her  first 
thought  on  awaking  was  to  make  arrangements  for 


Vernon  Grove.  337 

arraying  herself  for  the  long-talked-of,  long-anticipated 
ball,  in  a  toilet  which,  though  exquisite  in  its  simplicity, 
was  remarkable  for  its  richness  and  perfect  taste. 

Her  robe  consisted  of  black  velvet  of  the  softest  and 
most  silky  texture,  relieved  on  the  bosom  by  a  fall  of 
the  most  elaborate  lace  which  art  could  manufacture  or 
money  purchase.  Her  hair  was  combed  plainly  over 
her  brow,  and  above  its  glossy  smoothness  rose  a  tiara 
of  diamonds  in  the  form  of  a  crescent,  from  which  de- 
scended a  black  veil  almost  reaching  to  the  feet,  and 
which,  together  with  her  dress,  was  literally  studded 
with  small  stars  composed  of  the  same  precious  stones. 
Upon  her  arms  and  neck  were  glittering  bracelets  and  a 
necklace  of  jet  and  diamonds,  and  never  had  Isabel  so 
well  deserved  the  epithet,  "beautiful,"  as  she  did  on  this 
night,  when  she  stood  before  Clayton  in  her  imposing 
and  radiant  costume. 

"  You  are  magnificent,"  said  Clayton  as  she  flashed 
upon  his  sight  in  all  her  brilliant  loveliness,  "  even 
the  gorgeous  Night  wih1  find  a  rival  in  you  this  even- 
ing." 

"I  knew  that  you  would  like  me,"  she  said  with  a  smile 
of  gratified  vanity,  "  my  mirror  told  me  that  you  would 
approve  of  my  dress  and  me,  and  now,  Clayton,  tell  me 
if  I  am  not  right  in  thinking  that  you  would  not  love 
me  half  so  well  if  I  were  simply  attired  as  a  village 
country  girl  ?" 

"  That  is  not  a  hard  question  for  me  to  answer,"  he 
replied,  "  but  still  one  that  I  could  not  merely  dismiss 
with  a  'yes,'  or  'no.'  I  could  not  love  anything  that 
I  was  not  proud  of,  and  Robert  Clayton's  wife  is  most 
loved  when  he  is  most  proud  of  her." 
15 


338  Vernon  Grove. 

"And  are  you  proud  of  me  to-night?"  she  returned 
with  pretty  coquetry. 

"  What  a  question  to  ask  when  you  know  that  you 
are  peerless,  and  when  I  have  told  you  that  the  Night 
herself,  the  inspiration  of  song,  the  beloved  of  the  poets, 
will  look  at  you  with  envy  through  her  ten  thousand 
starry  eyes." 

Isabel  was  satisfied;  she  knew  her  power,  she  mis- 
trusted not  her  fascination,  but  there  was  a  yearning  in 
her  heart  to  assure  herself  that  the  mere  externals  were 
not  what  Clayton  alone  prized,  a  yearning  which  all 
women  must  have  who  possess  that  fleeting  perishable 
gift  of  perfect  beauty,  so  dangerous  in  more  than  one 
sense.  Xor  is  it  a  satisfying  possession ;  there  is  a  con- 
tinual struggle  to  preserve  it  and  to  meet  the  expecta- 
tions of  friends,  and  when  it  fades, — as  fade  it  must, — 
unless  a  mind  is  well  regulated  to  bear  changes  and  dis- 
appointments, its  decline  is  a  positive  period  of  suffering 
to  her  who  has  owned  it.  Far  preferable  must  be  that 
happy  medium  state  termed  "  good  looking, "  upon 
which  years  make  no  impression,  except  in  many  cases 
to  improve,  and  where,  not  cognizant  of  any  great  fall- 
ing off,  one  feels  somewhat  of  an  approach  to  the  happy 
consciousness  of  "  growing  old  gracefully." 

"Suppose,"  continued  Isabel,  "that  there  had  been 
some  mark  of  defect  upon  my  face,  suppose  that  I  did 
not  possess  the  beauty  which  you  give  me  credit  for,  or 
that  my  eyes  had  been  blinded  like  poor  Richard's — 
would  you  have  loved  me  then  as  now  ?" 

"  Your  beauty  first  enchained  me,  I  confess,"  said 
Clayton  seriously ;  "  that  was  to  me  all  potent,  and  I 
was  fortunate  while  I  fell  a  willing  captive  to  your 


Vernon  Grove.  339 

charms  and  won  you  for  my  own,  to  find  you  possessed 
of  fine  qualities  of  the  heart.  I  fear  that  if  you  had  had 
any  of  the  defects  which  you  have  just  mentioned,  you 
would  not  have  attracted  my  admiration,  and  that 
alone  leads  to  my  love.  No,  had  you  been  blind  or 
deformed,  I  Avould  have  passed  you  by  as  not  in  or  of 
my  world,  for  I  have  a  dread  of  anything  that  is  so 
constituted  by  nature.  An  accident,  like  that  of  Ver- 
non's,  I  should  view  in  a  different  light ;  when  the  beauty 
of  one  who  is  dear  to  you  is  defaced  after  you  have 
learned  to  love  him  or  her,  habit  is  so  strong  that  you 
are  not  repulsed  but  love  on, — but  this,  Isabel,  has 
nothing  to  do  with  your  question,  and  I  have  been  led 
into  quite  a  little  oration  while  the  carriage  has  been  in 
waiting  for  some  time;  why  agitate  such  questions, 
dearest  ?  Be  satisfied  that  you  are  all  that  I  could  wish, 
and  that  I  love  you  as  devotedly,  as  exclusively,  as  even 
your  requiring  nature  can  desire." 

In  this  half-playful,  half-serious  converse,  which  they 
both  had  reason  to  remember  for  many,  many  years 
after,  passed  the  half  hour  that  preceded  their  going  to 
the  ball,  and  amid  its  brilliant  scenes,  where  Isabel 
reigned  triumphant,  her  promise  to  the  friend  of  the 
poor  teas  forgotten. 

A  late  breakfast  found  them  talking  over  the  events 
of  the  night  before,  and  as  the  same  lady,  whom  Isabel 
had  so  cordially  welcomed  the  day  previous,  desired  to 
speak  to  her  for  a  few  minutes,  the  waiter  ushered  her  in 
without  ceremony  as  one  whose  visit  would  be  acceptable. 

Isabel  received  her  with  a  conscious  blush,  and  stam- 
mered out  some  apologies  which  her  visitor  did  not 
appear  to  hear. 


34-O  Vernon  Grove. 

"  I  have  come,"  she  said  hurriedly,  "  to  inquire  about 
the  money  which  you  sent  yesterday ;  unfortunately  it 
did  not  arrive  at  its  destination,  and  it  must  have  been 
taken  to  the  wrong  house." 

Clayton  looked  from  one  to  the  other  for  an  explana- 
tion. 

"  It  is  only  about  a  poor  and  suffering  family,"  said 
Isabel,  "  to  whom  I  promised  to  send  some  aid." 

"  I  am  sorry,"  said  Clayton  gravely,  "  that  misguided 
persons  will  persist  in  making  their  ill-timed  applications 
for  assistance  here, — and  more  sorry,  that  at  this  tune, 
Isabel,  they  should  worry  and  distress  you  by  their  revolt- 
ing pictures  of  the  suffering  of  the  poor,  who,  after  all, 
seem  to  me  to  be  surrounded  by  comforts  without  the 
trouble  of  toiling  for  them.  You  have  promised,  however, 
therefore  you  must  perform ;  here  is  sufficient  to  keep 
them  for  some  time  from  starvation,  though  I  think  it  a 
superfluous  donation,  inasmuch  as  I  have  to  pay  enough 
away  to-day  in  the  shape  of  poor  taxes  to  pave  their 
floors  with  silver." 

Isabel  extended  her  hand  to  receive  the  comparatively 
small  donation  which  her  husband  handed  her. 

"  Stop,  Mrs.  Clayton,"  said  her  visitor,  laying  her  hand 
with  dignity  upon  Isabel's ;  "  there  is  no  need  of  your 
charity  in  the  case  I  mentioned,  as  it  would  come  just 
tAvelve  hours  too  late,  and  your  promise  did  not  extend 
to  others.  After  I  left  you  yesterday,  hope  sustained 
the  little  group  I  mentioned  to  you,  until  the  day  wore 
into  night,  and  then  it  merged  into  despair,  and  I  learned 
this  morning  that  after  waiting  in  vain  for  the  assis- 
tance which  I  told  them  they  could  depend  upon  as 
being  sent  from  you,  the  husband,  maddened  by  poverty 


Vernon  Grove.  341 

and  want,  took  refuge  in  the  bottle,  and  is  raving  in  the 
delirium  of  drunkenness ;  the  wife,  more  shocked  at  his 
state  than  pressed  even  by  hunger  and  disease,  dying — 
and  the  little  infant  whose  frail  thread  of  life  was  only 
held  unbroken  by  its  mother's  devotion,  far  beyond  pain 
and  trouble — dead." 

"Dead!"  echoed  Isabel.  The  word  rang  like  a  knell 
in  her  ear  while  her  lips  repeated  it  again  and  again. 
"  The  little  infant  dead !" 

"Children  die  daily,"  said  the  visitor,  unable  to  refrain 
from  a  parting  word  of  reproach,  "  but  scarcely  under 
such  circumstances  as  these." 

Clayton  frowned  gloomily,  Isabel  trembled  at  the  just 
rebuke,  while,  conscious  of  having  done  her  duty,  their 
unwelcome  guest  passed  quietly  from  the  room. 


CHAPTER  XXVII, 

"I  see  them  sitting  by  each  other's  side 
In  the  heart's  silent  secrecy  1     I  hear 
The  breath  of  meditation  from  their  souls ; 
They  speak ;  a  soft  subduing  tenderness 
Born  of  devotion,  innocence,  and  bliss, 
Steals  from  their  bosoms  in  a  silvery  voice 
That  makes  a  pious  hymning  melody." 

JOHN  WILSON. 

"  Life,  when  he  least  expected,  burst  in  blossom. 
Music  became  the  measure  of  his  hours, 
His  paths  were  paths  of  flowers." 

HIRST'S  Endymion. 

VERNON'S  daily  visits  to  the  Grove,  to  plan  improre- 
nients,  and  to  restore  the  house  and  grounds  to  their 
former  completeness,  gave  him  a  constancy  of  occupa- 
tion which  was  most  beneficial  to  him.  Something  like 
this  he  needed  to  take  him  away  from  himself  and  the 
constantly  recurring  thought,  that  the  time  was  fast 
approaching  when  he  would  lose  the  companionship  of 
Sybil  for  ever.  Books  had  ceased  to  entice  him,  for  were 
they  ever  so  attractive,  his  thoughts  would  wander  as 
the  most  exciting  passages  were  read  to  him,  and  the 
authors  whom  he  most  admired  had  lost  their  charm. 
On  the  other  hand,  he  was  acquiring  the  habit  of  self- 
conquest,  and  felt  a  certain  satisfaction  in  the  conscious- 
ness that  he  was  hiding  from  Linwood  and  Sybil  the 


Vernon  Grove. 


343 


gloom  which  enveloped  his  inner  life.  He  had,  moreover, 
made  a  determination  to  be  more  cheerful,  and  not  to 
come  before  his  friends  like  a  dark  shadow  of  evil, 
clouding  the  sunshine  of  their  days;  and  since  it  was 
inevitable  that  social  happiness  was  not  to  be  his  lot,  he 
resolved  to  make  the  memory  of  Sybil's  last  days  in  his 
society  pleasant,  and  therefore  upon  his  return  each 
evening  from  his  visit  to  the  Grove,  his  brilliant  sallies 
of  wit  and  his  inexhaustible  fund  of  entertaining  conver- 
sation won  his  guests  to  new  admiration  of  his  talents 
and  varied  powers. 

It  was  in  a  mood  somewhat  like  that  which  has  been 
described  above,  with  sorrow  in  his  heart  but  with  a 
a  song  upon  his  lips,  that  he  entered  the  little  porch  at 
the  cottage  on  the  evening  of  the  day  which  had  wit- 
nessed the  parting  between  Sybil  and  Albert. 

Sybil  had  never  been  told  the  amount  of  Vernon's 
loss  by  the  fire, — indeed  any  allusion  to  that  fearful 
night  had  always  seemed  to  agitate  her,  and  the  subject 
was  tacitly  avoided ;  but  from  the  little  that  she  gained 
from  Vernon's  conversations  with  Albert,  her  impression 
was  that  nearly  the  whole  edifice  had  been  destroyed, 
together  with  the  pictures,  works  of  art,  books,  and  fur- 
niture, and  she  thought  if  such  were  the  case,  Vernon 
must  be  almost  impoverished.  But  so  little  experience 
had  she  in  anything  that  related  to  money  transactions, 
that  the  estimate  she  had  formed  was  far  from  correct. 
It  was  true  that  his  loss  was  quite  severe,  but  fortunately 
nil  that  had  been  destroyed  could  easily  be  supplied 
from  Vernon's  ample  fortune. 

Laboring  under  the  false  impression  she  had  formed, 
Sybil  passed  many  a  restless  night  before  her  strength 


344  Vernon  Grove. 

fully  returned  in  thinking  of  romantic  plans  (if  lie  would 
allow  her  to  remain  after  she  had  broken  her  engage- 
ment with  Albert),  whereby  she  could  assist  him,  or  in 
case  that  the  luxuries  to  which  he  had  been  accustomed 
had  to  be  relinquished,  how  best  she  could  help  to  make 
up  by  her  untiring  devotion  the  deprivation  he  would 
thus  be  obliged  to  endure. 

One  step  had  been  achieved — Albert  had  gone — but  a 
new  difficulty  arose  in  Sybil's  mind  as  to  the  manner  in 
which  Vernon  would  receive  the  intelligence.  His  song 
as  he  entered  smote  upon  her  heart,  he  seemed  to  be  so 
happy  in  spite  of  his  misfortunes.  She  felt  as  if  his  very 
joy  was  a  rebuke  to  her^  and  in  that  gay  careless  mood 
dreaded  to  tell  him,  if  he  inquired  for  Albert,  that  he 
had  departed  from  his  friend  for  ever.  She  feared,  too, 
one  of  those  old  terrible  outburts  of  ungovernable  pas- 
sion whicHi  knew  no  law,  and  which,  even  though  he  had 
tried  to  struggle  against  them  so  bravely,  now  and  then 
might  burst  in  fury  upon  her  head. 

Sybil  was  pacing  to  and  fro  in  the  little  porch.  She 
could  not  remain  calmly  within  awaiting  Vernon's  return; 
that  quick  tread  which  sent  the  blood  coursing  through 
her  frame  was  preferable  to  sitting  and  watching  the 
pendulum's  lazy  motion,  or  to  reading  pages  which  her 
eyes  indeed  mechanically  followed,  though  they  con- 
veyed to  her  pre-occupied  mind  no  sense  or  meaning. 
At  last  she  heard  the  sound  of  horse-hoofs,  then  Vernon's 
voice,  then  his  approaching  step,  and  she  advanced  to 
meet  him,  and  offered  to  lead  him  into  the  room. 

"  If  you  are  walking,  Sybil,  I  will  join  you,"  said  he — 
"  how  long  it  is  since  we  have  had  a  talk  about  the  stars ! 
Tell  me  something  of  them  as  they  twinkle  out  upon 


Vernon  Grove. 


345 


the  night, — if  your  favorite  Orion  is  belted  as  gor- 
geously as  of  yore,  and  if  the  lost  Pleiad  has  yet 
returned  to  her  sisters.  Did  Sybil  ever  tell  you,  Albert, 
that  a  blind  man  taught  her  the  constellations,  and  how 
well  with  his  help  and  the  charts  she  has  learned  their 
names?  Give  her  your  other  arm,  for  we  must  not 
forget  that  our  little  flower  is  still  drooping,  and  not 
nearly  as  strong  as  we  hope  the  fresh  Spring  air  will 
make  her." 

Ah,  bravely  said  were  those  few  cheerful  words,  and 
they  had  a  deeper  meaning,  too,  than  Sybil  imagined, 
for  they  referred  to  the  right  that  Albert  had  to  be  her 
support  and  guide. 

"  Albert  is  not  here,"  said  Sybil,  timidly. 

"  Not  here  !"  said  Vernon  in  astonishment,  "  why,  is 
the  knight  a  truant,  that  he  must  thus  leave  his  lady's 
bower  ?  Take  comfort,  Sybil,  he  cannot  desert  you  long." 

"He  will  never  return^  said  Sybil,  pausing  in  her 
walk  and  speaking  with  trembling  earnestness,  "  and  he 
bade  me  say  farewell  to  you.  I  told  you  that  I  had 
something  to  say  to  you,  Mr.  Vernon,  sooner  or  later, 
and  now  the  time  has  arrived,  more  especially  since  you 
have  lost  so  much,  and  feel  the  heavy  hand  of  misfor- 
tune upon  you.  It  is  true  that  I  have  brought  one  sad 
thing  to  pass,  Albert's  absence — that  was  inevitable; 
but  if  you  will  accept  my  services,  me  you  still  can  have. 
I  will  serve  you  and  toil  for  you,  no  exertion  will  seem 
too  great,  no  privation  too  hard  to  bear,  if  you  will  let 
me  stay  and  be  your  friend,  your  sister,  even  your 
servant ;  and  should  this  cottage  be  your  home,  I  will 
try  to  make  it  pleasant  for  you,  so  pleasant  that  you  will 
miss  but  very  little  the  lost  luxuries  of  Vernon  Grove." 


346  Vernon  Grove. 

"And  Albert?"  questioned  Vernon  in  the  only  words 
which  he  could  command  himself  sufficiently  to  utter. 

"  I  could  not,  could  not  love  him,"  said  Sybil  passion- 
ately, "I  tried,  until  I  made  myself  deceitful;  all  the 
long  nights  I  would  lie  awake,  hoping  to  make  the 
thought  of  him  a  thought  of  love,  but  in  vain.  Then 
your  letter  came  to  Mrs.  Clayton,  and  she  read  words 
to  me  from  it  which  sent  my  heart  adrift  from  Vernon 
Grove,  bidding  Albert  God  speed  in  his  love,  and  saying 
that  it  was  your  desire  that  I  should  be  his  wife,  not 
only  your  desire,  but  almost  your  command,  and  then 
in  an  evil  hour  to  please  you,  but  only  to  please  you, 
Mr.  Vernon,  I  consented,  but  since  then  I  have  had  no 
peace,  none.  Something  has  said  to  me  hourly, '  you  arc 
living  a  lie.'  Life  has  been  a  burden,  and  as  I  could  not 
love  him,  nor  could  I  ever  hope  to  after  all  this  trying, 
I  told  him  so  to-day.  If  you  are  too  angry  with  me  to 
endure  me  in  your  presence,  only  say  so,  and  I  will  find 
another  home, — even  that,  though  sad  enough,  would 
be  better  than  the  struggle  that  has  daily  and  hourly 
been  mine, — but  if  you  can  forgive  me,  weighing  all  my 
trials,  my  needs,  my  love  for  you  and  all  that  belongs 
to  you,  the  heart-agony  I  have  endured  in  the  false  life 
which  I  have  told  you  of,  then  let  your  little  Sybil 
stay." 

So  saying  she  twined  her  arm  more  securely  in  his 
and  drew  nearer  to  him,  as  though  she  knew  how  hard 
it  would  be  to  thrust  one  away  who,  like  a  frightened 
timid  dove,  sought  protection  in  his  bosom. 

Vernon  trembled  ;  a  hundred  varying  emotions  pas.^-d 
through  his  mind,  chief  among  which  the  thought  of 
Sybil's  sufferings  and  Isabel's  duplicity,  which  he  at  once 


Vernon  Grove.  347 

traced  to  Florence's  schemes,  was  conspicuous.  But  over 
all  reigned  a  strange  sensation  of  peace  and  holy  joy, 
the  reality  that  he  had  so  well  counterfeited  only  a  few 
moments  before. 

"  Poor  child,"  he  said,  taking  her  hand  with  indescri- 
bable tenderness  of  voice  and  manner,  "  poor  suffering 
child ;  and  so  they  made  you  believe  that  I  would  have 
you  wed  Albert  and  leave  me  to  my  loneliness  ;  it  was 
all  false,  some  fiendish  plot  misled  you,  and  some  day  we 
shall  unravel  it  all.  And  would  you  share  my  fancied 
poverty  with  me,  as  you  said  ?  Is  there  nothing  in  the 
wide  world  that  could  part  you  from  me,  Sybil  ?" 

"  Ah,  nothing." 

"  And  is  there  no  one  whom  you  have  met  and  would 
welcome,  were  he  to  come  to  take  you  from  the  blind 
man's  hearth  ?" 

"  No  one  in  the  whole  wide  world." 

The  grasp  of  his  hand  tightened  around  Sybil's  yield- 
ing fingers ;  his  pulses  throbbed  with  a  new  sense  of  joy ; 
that  moment  would  have  rewarded  him  for  a  lifetime  of 
suffering. 

"  Bless  you,  Sybil,"  he  said  with  deep  emotion,  "  now 
has  the  sunshine  of  my  life  indeed  returned,  the  silver 
lining  of  my  cloud  appeared." 

"And  will  you  never  send  me  away  again?"  she 
asked. 

"  Send  you  away,  Sybil !"  he  exclaimed,  "  how  could 
I?  and  yet,"  he  added,  like  one  awaking  from  a  sweet 
dream,  "  God  help  me,  but  I  must  send  you  away,  God 
give  me  strength  to  do  my  duty  unflinchingly,  for  I  dare 
not  keep  you  with  me  any  longer.  Would  you  ask  me 
why,"  he  continued,  an  uncontrollable  impulse  leading 


348  Vernon  Grove. 

him  on,  "I  would  tell  you  that  I  love  you,  love  you  with 
the  whole  strength  of  my  heart  and  soul.     I  never  meant 
to  reveal  this  to  you,  Sybil,  but  justice  to  you  and  my- 
self requires  it  now.     There  is  no  love  in  the  world  like 
mine,  for  it  has  grown  with  years  of  the  closest  inter- 
course ;  it  is  prayerful,  because  you  first  taught  me  to 
pray;  it  is  forbearing,   because  you  gave  me  my  iirst 
lessons  in  checking  the  sins  of  my  exacting  and  imperi- 
ous nature,  and  it  is  enduring  because  of  the  very  ele- 
ments which  have  fostered  its  growth,  and  therefore  it 
can  never  die  as  common  loves  die,  or  seek  for  another 
object  whereon  to  rest.     Then,  loving  you  thus,  how 
could  I  bear  to  think  that  the  time  might  arrive,  ay, 
let  it  be  a  mere  probability,  when  another  would  come 
to  claim  you.     I  could  never  be  quite  happy  under  the 
uncertainty;  day  and  night,  night  and  day,  I  should 
think  that  my  treasure  might  be  taken  away,  and  the 
thought  would  bring  only  wretchedness  with  it.     There 
is  a  way,"  he  continued  after  pausing  for  an  instant, 
"  only  one  way  in  which  I  could  be  happier  than  ever 
mortal  was  when  happiest  in  the  world,  but  I  love  you 
too  much  to  say  it ;  it  would  be  wrong  in  me  to  wish  to 
appropriate  so  much  loveliness  and  purity  to  my  dark- 
ened life.     No,  Sybil,  leave  me  ere  I  so  far  forget  myself 
and  my  long  cherished  resolution  as  even  to  whisper  it 
in  your  ear — tempt  me  not  with  your  dear  presence  to 
utter  what  might  offend  you  irrevocably,  and  cause  me 
everlasting  regret." 

Sybil  listened — her  life  had  known  no  joy  like  this  ; 
she  knew  that  she  was  dear  to  him,  but  not  so  dear  as 
he  had  said.  She  laid  her  hands  trustingly  in  his  and 
gazing  up  into  his  face  with  a  look  which  he  felt  and 


Vernon  Grove.  349 

welcomed  even  through  his  blindness,  spoke  again,  in 
answer,  earnest  and  trembling  words. 

"  Say  it,"  she  said  solemnly,  "  whatever  way  there  is 
to  make  your  happiness,  that  way  will  most  surely  make 
mine  also." 

"  And  you  will  not  be  angry  or  scornful  if  it  offends 
you,  and  you  will  keep  your  hands  in  mine  still,  even 
thus,  and  not  let  our  parting  be  abrupt,  but  stay  with 
me  a  little  longer,  Sybil,  and  talk  on  in  your  own  sweet 
way  about  the  calm  eternal  stars  ?" 

"  Angry  and  scornful,  angry  with  you  /"  she  said,  "  ah, 
you  little  know  how  to  measure  a  true  heart's  love." 

These  words  gave  him  new  life ;  hope  unbound  the 
fetters  of  his  tongue  and  bestowed  upon  his  wild  long- 
hidden  wish  a  voice.  It  could  not  be  wrong  to  utter  it 
now,  when  she,  whom  it  most  concerned,  urged  him  on ; 
when,  after  wealth  and  love  had  been  laid  at  her  feet  she 
had  rejected  them  to  return  to  him ;  when  it  was  so 
plainly  his  duty  to  be  frank  with  her  own  frank  nature  ; 
under  such  circumstances  any  tribunal  would  absolve  him 
from  his  vow ;  the  words  could  not  harm  her,  mere 
words  which  she  had  promised  she  would  not  be  offended 
at ;  and  after  all,  he  had  himself  proposed  the  worst 
thing  that  could  befall  him,  she  could  but  leave  him,  she 
could  not  deprive  him  of  the  privilege  of  still  loving  her 
memoiy  after  she  had  departed  from  him  for  ever. 

"  Then,  Sybil,"  he  said,  "  I  will  trust  that  large  gener- 
ous heart,  and  rest  my  cause  upon  its  wide  extended 
love — I  can  only  be  happy  were  you  mine,  were  you  my 
wife.  "Would  you,  could  you,  be  a  blind  man's  wife  ? 
Never ;  let  us  end  this  mockery  ;  come." 

He  turned  from  her  as  though  to  enter  the  cottage 


350  \Vrnon  Grove. 

door,  but  she  stood  between  him  and  it,  and  arrested  his 
steps. 

"  I  have  come,"  she  said,  detaining  him,  "  but  not  to 
leave  this  pleasant  porch  just  yet ;  stop  and  listen  to 
me,  I  have  come  to  tell  you  that  I  knew  it  could  be 
found,  the  love  that  would  satisfy  me,  that  I  would  turn 
from  the  whole  world  to  guide  you,  that  our  love  is  equal, 
that  I  will  be  your  wife,  Richard.  May  I  call  you 
Richard  now  ?" 

With  a  glad  cry  of  joy  he  caught  her  to  his  breast ; 
the  wish  for  sight  was  stilled ;  content  was  he  to  be  in 
his  darkened  world,  since  her  voice,  with  all  its  wealth 
of  tenderness,  whispered  to  him  that  he  was  beloved, 
and  there  beneath  the  stars  he  told  her  that  he  was 
resigned  even  to  his  life-affliction,  his  blindness. 

"  Life,  when  least  expected,  burst  in  blossom, 
Music  became  the  measure  of  his  hours, 
His  paths  were  paths  of  flowers." 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

"Thou  lamb  in  Childhood's  field  astray  I 
Whence  earnest  thou  ?  what  angel  bore 
Thee  past  so  many  a  fairer  shore 
Of  guarding  love  and  guidance  mild, 
To  drop  thee  on  this  barren  wild  ?" 

BAYARD  TAYLOR. 

"Blest   Infancy 

That  from  thy  precious  shore  of  hidden  wealth, 
Can'st  lavish  gifts  as  boundless,  when  compared 
To  the  world's  hollow  pleasures,  as  a  beam 
Is  to  the  mote  that  flits  along  its  path." 

MAEY  LEE. 

So  changeable  was  Isabel's  April-like  temperament  that 
she  was  glad  to  hear  of  her  brother's  happiness.  She 
wrote  him  a  long  letter  making  a  full  confession  of  her 
participation  in  Sybil's  engagement  to  Albert ;  so  touch- 
ing and  contrite  was  it,  she  asked  for  forgiveness  so 
humbly  that  it  was  granted  at  once,  and  Vernon  ac- 
cepted an  invitation  which  she  urged  upon  him,  to  come 
at  once  to  the  city,  and  to  be  married  under  Mr.  Clay- 
ton's roof. 

They  went,  and  it  is  enough  for  the  development  of 
our  story  to  say,  without  describing  Isabel's  kindness  or 
Mr.  Clayton's  welcome,  the  beauty  of  the  bride's  trous- 
seau or  the  glorious  sunshine  which  marked  the  happy 
day,  that  they  were  married,  and  that  a  benediction  from 


352  Vernon  Grove. 

God  was  never  asked  upon  more  congenial  and  loving 
hearts. 

Another  event  of  importance  was  about  to  transpire 
at  Mr.  Clayton's.  Isabel's  earnest  prayer  had  at  last 
been  granted  and  God  had  given  her  the  promise  of  a 
little  child ;  something  to  love  ;  an  heir  to  all  the  wealth 
so  carefully  hoarded,  except  where  selfish  gratification 
was  concerned ;  a  sunbeam  to  light  up  those  lonely 
rooms,  a  young  voice  to  draw  her  homeward  and  to 
keep  her  satisfied  there. 

To  Clayton  this  promise  was  one  of  extraordinary 
moment,  and  his  pride  and  joy  showed  itself  in  increased 
tenderness  towards  Isabel  and  in  extravagant  prepara- 
tions for  the  little  stranger.  What  wealth  could  buy 
was  to  be  laid  at  its  feet — the  finest  lawns  would  scarcely 
be  soft  enough  to  enfold  its  delicate  limbs,  and  the  laces 
and  embroideries  ordered  for  its  wardrobe  were  curiosi- 
ties in  themselves  from  their  richness  and  costliness. 
Then  its  eyes  were  to  open  upon  everything  fair  ami  ex- 
quisite, and  as  it  grew  to  years  all  that  was  beautiful  in 
art  and  nature  was  to  minister  in  its  tastes.  Gorgeous 
canopies  threaded  with  gold  hung  over  the  elaborate 
cradle,  and  precious  salvers  and  vases  stood  ready  for 
the  infant's  use.  Nor  was  he  content  with  merely  pro- 
viding for  the  present  wants  of  the  'child,  but  a  so-called 
"nursery"  was  fitted  up  with  an  extravagance  which 
was  almost  sinful.  Rare  pictures  which  a  child  might 
understand,  stories  told  by  skilful  artists'  hands,  lined 
the  walls ;  curious  toys  lay  strewed  about  like  the 
bijouterie  in  a  drawing-room ;  silver  and  gold  were 
manufactured  into  playthings,  and  musical  instruments 
mimicked  with  exquisite  skill  and  precision  into  minia- 


Vernon  Grove.  253 

ture  toys.  So  talked  of  was  this  extraordinary  outlay 
of  money,  this  unusual  prodigality,  that  it  was  consi- 
dered a  privilege  among  the  friends  of  the  Claytons'  circle 
to  gain  admittance  to  this  room,  set  apart  from  all  others, 
in  order  to  boast  of  having  seen  the  rare  curiosities  it 
contained. 

At  length  the  day  and  the  hour  arrived,  and  the 
promise  of  the  Spring,  a  child,  lay  slumbering  upon  its 
mother's  breast, — 

"  With  her  hands,  soft,  white,  and  slender, 
And  her  red  lips  full  and  tender, 
And  her  breathing,  like  the*motion 
Which  the  waves  of  calmest  ocean 
In  their  peaceful  throbbings  keep." 

There  was  stillness  in  the  household,  but  how  different 
from  the  silence  of  a  house  that  death  has  visited !  Every 
footfall  was  noiseless,  but  every  lip  was  smiling ;  every 
voice  whispered,  but  each  whisper  was  a  note  of  joy. 

Robert  Clayton  hung  over  his  new-born  treasure  and 
his  lovely  wife  with  a  heart  filled  with  pride  and  gratitude. 
His  worship  of  the  beautiful  was  never  more  fully  called 
out  than  then,  for  the  mother  and  child  were  perfect  in 
form  and  feature.  Nor  was  he  disappointed  in  the  sex 
of  the  infant,  for  Isabel  had  most  wished  for  a  little  girl 
to  be  her  companion  in  the  long  hours  when  he  was 
absent,  and  moreover  there  was  something  akin  to 
royalty  in  the  idea  of  giving  away  a,  daughter  who  could 
boast  of  the  wealth  of  princes. 

As  day  by  day  passed,  the  child  grew  in  beauty;  a 
serene  patient  face  was  hers,  with  the  calm  loveliness 
which  we  see  upon  the  face  of  the  infant  Samuel. 


354  Vernon  Grove. 

Isabel's  countenance  was  like  the  day,  radiant,  brilliant, 
and  smiling ;  with  a  light  upon  it  not  borrowed  from 
without,  but  which  emanated  from  a  heart  ever  carelessly 
happy; — the  child's  resembled  moonlight  rather,  with 
its  deep,  solemn  shadows,  its  unfathomable  mysteries,  a 
face  leaving  in  the  mind  a  memory  which  vibrated 
between  a  smile  and  a  sigh. 

Time  unrolled  his  mystic  scroll  of  hours,  and  still  the 
infant  developed  beneath  her  parents'  fond  and  watchful 
eyes.  First  came  the  realizing  sense  that  she  was  startled 
by  sounds,  next,  that  her  hearing  was  singularly  acute, 
that  she  was  sensitive  to  the  slightest  touch,  and  that 
her  lungs  were  strong  and  powerful.  Each  new  unfolding 
of  that  young  and  wonderful  life,  each  leaf  opening  in 
the  curious  mechanism  of  that  living  flower,  was  a  source 
of  inexpressible  joy  and  interest  to  Clayton  and  Isabel. 
Sometimes  they  hung  over  her  as  she  lay  sleeping, 
weaving  plans  for  her  future  in  whispers,  for  fear  that  a 
louder  tone  might  awake  her  peaceful  slumbers,  or 
commenting  upon  her  features,  her  soft  wavy  hair,  or 
the  dimples  that  covered 

"  Those  crossed  hands  upon  her  breast," 

those  tiny  hands,  crossed  unconsciously,  as  though  in 
prayer. 

And  yet  with  still  more  tenderness  when  she  awoke 
did  they  guard  their  little  treasure  from  evils  real 
and  imaginary,  from  a  ray  of  light  let  unguardedly  into 
the  room,  from  a  draught  of  air,  or  a  sudden  and  unex- 
pected noise. 

Vernon's  old  friend  and  physician,  Dr.  Bailey,  was  in 
close  attendance  upon  Isabel  and  her  child,  and  her  manner 


Vernon  Grove.  355- 

to  him  was  softened  when  compared  with  the  haughty 
careless  air  with  which  she  had  met  him  at  the  door  of 
her  brother's  room  and  heard  the  intelligence  of  his  doom 
of  perpetual  blindness.  She  had  learned  to  be  accustomed 
to  his  brusque  yet  honest  manner  ;  each  day,  too,  he 
appeared  to  her  more  gentle  and  considerate,  and  more- 
over intensely  interested  in  the  new-born  babe,  while 
his  step,  which  was  once  like  the  footfall  of  a  giant,  was 
now  echoless,  and  his  voice  tenderer  to  her,  it  seemed, 
in  his  daily  inquiries  concerning  the  infant  and  herself. 
l>ut  Isabel  might  have  been  mistaken  in  the  new  opinion 
which  she  was  forming  concerning  her  rough  but  skilful 
physician,  for  all  the  world  was  bright  to  her  now,  and 
every  one  in  it  a  miracle  of  perfection,  so  surely  does 
happiness  color  the  atmosphere  of  those  who  look  at  life 
through  its  medium. 

It  is  true,  however,  that  Dr.  Bailey  showed  a  peculiar 
interest  in  the  infant  under  his  charge,  more  perhaps 
than  was  needed  in  the  case  of  one  who,  in  sick-room 
phrase,  was  "  doing  well."  It  was  true,  too,  that  one 
day  after  hanging  over  it  in  silence  for  some  time,  and 
when  he  had  taken  his  departure  and  had  descended 
one  flight  of  stairs,  he  turned  as  though  to  retrace  his 
steps,  pausing  irresolutely  while  a  strange  expression  of 
indecision  passed  over  his  face.  Then  it  could  not  have 
been  doubted,  had  any  one  heard  them,  that  the  words 
which  he  uttered  related  to  the  group  he  had  just  left. 
Full  of  mystery  they  were,  and  yet  they  were  said  by 
one  who  despised  mystery,  and  prided  himself  upon  ever 
speaking  the  naked  truth  : 

"  Not  yet,  they  cannot  bear  it  yet,  and  perhaps  after 
all  I  may  be  in  the  wrong." 


356  Vernon  Grove. 

But  the  next  day  decided  Dr.  Bailey  not  to  withhold 
the  communication,  whatever  it  might  be,  from  Robert 
Clayton  and  his  wife. 

"  Xurse,  bring  the  child  hither,"  said  he  abruptly,  as 
he  stood  by  a  window  and  unclosed  the  darkened  blinds. 

The  child  was  brought  just  from  its  morning  toilette, 
fresh  as  a  rain-brightened  flower,  and  as  pure,  its  long 
embroidered  dress  sweeping  the  floor,  and  soft  laces 
hanging  about  its  tiny  form. 

Isabel  uttered  an  exclamation  of  remonstrance  : 

"Oh,  do  not  take  it  there,"  she  said,  "that  bright 
glare  of  light  has  weakened  even  my  strong  eyes,  and 
how  can  her  feeble  sight  bear  its  glare  ?" 

"  It  is  necessaiy,  Madam,"  was  all  the  reply  the 
physician  vouchsafed. 

Then  he  took  the  infant  in  his  arms  and  having  sent 
the  nurse  away  upon  some  trivial  message  to  his  servant, 
turned  from  Isabel  so  that  the  curtains  might  intervene 
between  them  as  she  lay  anxiously  watching  him,  and 
gave  his  whole  attention  to  the  child.  First  he  exposed 
her  tender  eyes  to  the  bright  glare  of  the  morning  sun, 
and  peered  anxiously  down  into  her  face ;  then  he  forced 
the  lids  far  away  from  the  ball  of  the  eye,  until  the  whole 
sensitive  surface  lay  exposed,  the  child  screaming  in 
the  mean  time  with  pain  from  his  rough  and  cruel  treat- 
ment. 

But  it  was  necessary. 

Then  a  deep  shade  of  anxiety  crossed  his  face.  Invo- 
luntarily the  hard  unfeeling  man,  as  Isabel  thought  him, 
drew  the  infant  to  his  breast,  uttered  some  pitying 
exclamation  in  a  voice  as  gentle  as  a  woman's,  and  then 
returned  her  to  her  nurse's  arms. 


Vernon  Grove. 


357 


In  the  evening  following  that  day,  Dr.  Bailey  paid  an 
unexpected  and  unusual  call  upon  his  patient.  Hitherto 
his  visits  had  been  before  candle-light,  but  on  this  occasion 
it  was  fully  dark. 

He  was  one  of  those  physicians,  not  uncommon  in  the 
class  of  doctors  of  medicine,  who  though  first  in  their 
profession,  sought  after  and  patronized,  have  none  of 
the  drawing-room  manners  of  the  more  polished  members 
of  the  fraternity  who  study  sick-room  words  and  phrases, 
and  gild  their  pills,  if  possible,  while  administering  them, 
advising  even  a  dying  man,  through  a  trick  of  courtesy, 
to  hope  for  life  and  restoration  to  health.  Dr.  Bailey 
was  none  of  these ;  a  little  more  blandness  in  tone  and 
manner  would  have  improved  him — lie  only  thought  of 
his  patient  and  how  to  cure  him ;  his  step  was  not 
always  soft  and  measured,  nor  his  words  silvery;  some- 
times even  the  sanctity  of  the  quiet  of  a  sick-room  did 
not  prevent  him  from  uttering  an  expletive  so  strong 
that  it  might  have  been  construed  into  an  oath,  and 
when  death  was  hovering  over  a  patient  and  waiting  for 
his  prey,  he  told  him  so,  nor  cheated  him  into  the  belief 
that  the  means  used  merely  to  soften  his  passage  to  the 
grave,  might  yet  restore  him  to  health  once  more. 

Such  was  the  man  who  entered  Isabel  Clayton's  cham- 
ber, well  meaning  and  skilful,  but  rough  and  abrupt  in 
the  extreme.  He  was  there  to  do  his  duty,  and  he  per- 
formed it  without  calculating  how  the  blow  could  be 
made  to  descend  most  gently. 

A  pretty  group  met  his  eye  as  he  entered.  The 
happy  mother  was  sitting  up,  enveloped  in  cashmeres, 
and  half  buried  in  an  easy  chair  of  ponderous  dimen- 
sions. How  lovely  she  was  with  that  conscious  feeling 


358  Vernon  Grove. 

of  importance,  the  sweet  motherly  air  which  showed 
itself  in  every  movement,  the  subdued  tone  of  her 
voice  and  the  chastened  expression  of  her  eyes,  which 
were  turned  ever  upon  the  calm  face  of  her  child  ! 

Opposite  to  her  sat  Vernon  and  Sybil,  very,  very  near 
each  other.  He  loved  to  feel  her  breath  npon  his  cheek, 
he  loved  to  know  that  she  was  by  his  side,  no\v  that  she 
was  his  own,  and  playfully  would  tell  her,  while  he 
clasped  her  hand  within  his,  that  he  wished  to  assure 
himself  of  the  presence  of  his  good  angel  lest  her  sky- 
sisters,  taking  advantage  of  his  blindness,  might  spirit 
her  away. 

Close  to  Isabel,  so  close  that  she  might  Avatch  that 
her  treasure  did  not  fall  from  his  awkward  arms,  Clay- 
ton was  seated,  holding  the  child,  and  speaking  to  it  in 
a  language  which  was  intelligible  only  to  himself;  he 
was  evidently  improving  in  the  arts  of  the  nursery,  and 
had  actually  lulled  the  infant  to  sleep  with  a  cradle-like 
motion  and  some  ambitious  attempts  at  a  lullaby,  which 
seemed  to  be  a  great  source  of  amusement  to  the  rest 
of  the  circle ;  while  in  the  distance  was  the  nurse,  fast 
asleep,  it  is  true,  but  as  much  alive  to  the  interest  of  the 
child  as  if  she  were  awake  and  holding  her  in  her  arms. 

It  was  not  cold,  and  merely  a  few  embers  glowed 
upon  the  hearth,  as  the  nurse  said,  "to  take  the  damp- 
ness from  the  air." 

It  would  be  difficult  to  conceive  of  a  happier  group ; 
there  seemed  to  be  no  shade  in  the  picture,  if  we  may 
except  Vernon's  blindness  ;  and  if  life  is  judged  by 
contrast,  it  might  be  said  that  he  was  happier  far  than 
all! 

As  we  have  said,  the  grouping  was  one  to  charm  a 


Vernon  Grove.  359 

looker  on ;  the  sweet  domestic  quiet,  together  with  the 
surroundings,  the  bouquet  of  rare  flowers  gracing  the 
stand,  the  silken  draperies,  the  luxurious  lounges,  the 
fair  mother,  the  helpless  infant,  which  told  at  once  why 
they  were  thus  gathered  there ;  and  Dr.  Bailey  should 
have  smiled  when  he  entered,  but  he  frowned  rather,  at 
that  light-hearted  assemblage.  Let  us  do  him  the  justice 
to  say  that  he  brought  the  frown  with  him  ;  it  emanated 
from  his  own  inward  self;  like  the  reed  Avhich  bends 
when  it  is  held  over  an  unseen  stream  of  water,  so  the 
frown  showed  the  state  of  the  physician's  heart ;  any 
one  might  have  told  that  it  was  an  index,  and  that  all 
was  not  peaceful  within. 

"  A  family  party  ?"  asked  he,  looking  around. 

"  Strictly,"  said  Clayton,  smiling, — "  where  no  one 
but  yourself  would  find  a  welcome." 

"  So  much  the  better,"  growled  Dr.  Bailey;  "  nurse, 
light  the  gas." 

"  We  have  not  lit  it  yet,"  said  Isabel,  timidly ;  "  they 
tell  me  that  the  eyes  of  infants  are  very  weak." 

Dr.  Bailey  scarcely  regarded  Isabel's  remark,  and 
nodded  to  the  nurse,  one  of  those  functionaries  who 
think  physicians  are  commissioned  angels,  and  can  never 
do  wrong  ;  so  she  obeyed  his  order  forthwith. 

Isabel  glanced  at  the  infant,  who  luckily  was  sleeping, 
peacefully  still,  and  then  shaded  her  own  eyes  from  the 
sudden  blaze  of  light,  thinking  that  though  the  doctor 
was  very  cruel,  he  was  doing  something  which  was  com- 
mon and  necessary,  while  Clayton  and  Sybil  drew  back, 
blinded  by  the  sudden  accession  of  light. 

"  I  only  needed  this  test  before  I  spoke  out,"  said  Dr. 
Bailey ;  "  here,  give  me  the  child." 


360  Vernon  Grove. 

Clayton,  knowing  that  he  was  experienced  and  skilful, 
gave  up  the  child,  though  quite  at  a  loss  to  imagine 
what  he  meant  to  do.  The  light  was  certainly  too 
strong  to  be  let  suddenly  into  that  long  darkened 
room,  but  who  would  dare  to  doubt  Dr.  Bailey's  know- 
ledge in  almost  every  branch  of  his  profession  !  The 
only  individual  who  seemed  to  take  in  a  full  meaning  of 
what  was  passing,  was,  strange  to  say,  Veraon,  to  whom 
Sybil  was  relating  what  transpired  in  the  scene  before 
her  in  whispers. 

"Another!"  was  all  that  he  said,  and  Sybil  under- 
stood too  well  a  few  minutes  later  the  significance  of  the 
word. 

The  little  head  of  the  sleeping  child  lay  helplessly 
against  the  physician's  rough  coat,  encircled  by  his  arm. 
Suddenly  he  dashed  some  cold  water  that  stood  near 
into  her  face,  and  she  awoke  immediately  under  the 
bright  stream  of  light. 

She  did  not  cry,  she  did  not  moan  ;  calmly  she  looked 
upward,  never  flinching,  never  winking  as  she  lay.  Dr. 
Bailey  raised  her  nearer  and  nearer  to  the  flame,  turned 
the  screw,  and  let  out  each  burner  to  its  full  capacity, 
passed  his  hand  rapidly  to  and  fro  over  the  child's  eyes, 
then  turning  towards  the  wondering  group  who  were 
slowly  understanding  the  meaning  of  that  fearful  panto- 
mime, he  laid  her  once  more  in  her  father's  arms,  and 
looking  into  his  face  said,  with  a  rough  voice,  though  a 
tear  trembled  in  his  eye  : 

"  3Ir.  Clayton,  your  child  is  blind!" 

The  physician  departed,  and  came  again  and  again, 
but  never  more  did  he  open  the  door  upon  a  group  so 
smilingly  happy  as  that  which  greeted  him  ere  they  had 


Vernon  Grove.  361 

learned  the  truth  which  he  had  come  to  tell,  and  which 
turned  the  note  of  gladness  into  a  sorrowful  wail  of  dis- 
appointment and  despair. 

NOTE. — The  author  of  this  work  deems  it  necessary  to  say  that  the 
reader  will  find  a  striking  coincidence  between  the  preceding  chapter 
and  one  in  the  recent  novel  of  "  John  Halifax."  It  was,  however, 
written  long  before  "  John  Halifax"  was  published. 

16 


CHAPTER    XXIX. 

"  I  planted  in  my  heart  one  seed  of  love, 
"Watered  with  tears  and  watched  with  sleepless  care; 
It  grew,  and  when  I  looked  that  it  should  prove 
A  gracious  tree,  and  blessed  harvests  bear, 
Blossom  nor  fruit  was  there  to  crown  my  pain, — 
Tears,  cares,  and  labor,  all  had  been  in  vain ; 
And  yet  I  dare  not  pluck  it  from  my  heart, 
Lest,  with  the  deep  struck  root  my  life  depart." 

From  the  Italian.— MRS.  F.  K.  BCTLER. 

MAXY  years  have  passed  since  Sybil  first  looked  upon 
the  calm  picture  of  Evening.  She  has  it  near  her  still, 
and  though  surrounded  by  works  of  more  artistic  merit, 
and  paintings  executed  by  those  who  bear  the  names  of 
the  great,  still  does  this  undying  memory  of  her  youth 
combine  to  shed  the  steady  light  of  peace  around  it,  a 
peace,  ah,  how  iinlike  the  life  of  the  self-exiled  artist  by 
whom  it  was  executed  ! 

Albert  Linwood  never  expected  to  find  peace,  nor 
did  he  attempt  to  look  for  it ;  his  lot  was  that  of  a  man 
who,  having  one  great  all-absorbing  passion,  and  being 
disappointed  hi  its  fulfilment  and  fruition,  accepts  his 
destiny  as  an  inheritor  of  sorrow,  and  uncomplainingly 
loves  on. 

Once  Art  with  him  was  the  chief  object  of  his  exist- 
ence, but  now  it  was  only  secondary,  he  used  it  as  a 
means,  not  an  end,  and  so  far  as  it  helped  him  some- 


Vernon  Grove.  363 

what  to  forget  the  gloomier  points  of  his  fate,  so  far  as 
it  kept  him  from  utter  despair,  he  was  grateful  to  it — 
no  farther. 

He  had  won  fame  and  wealth,  and  still  he  wrought 
mechanically  upon  the  canvass,  apparently  as  though 
life  depended  upon  his  efforts.  Men  pointed  him  out  to 
young  aspiring  artists  as  an  example  of  perseverance 
worthy  of  imitation;  women  wondered  at  his  cold 
reserve,  which  rendered  him  averse  to  society,  and, 
avoiding  all  overtures  to  a  more  social  life,  still  he  toiled 
on.  His  studio  was  not  an  object  of  interest  to  visitors, 
for  his  pictures  were  always  sent  to  those  who  had 
ordered  them,  as  soon  as  completed ;  and  would  the 
curious  endeavor  to  obtain  a  glimpse  of  his  studio, 
nothing  would  be  seen  but  the  absorbed  artist,  intent 
upon  his  last  commission,  and  toiling  with  feverish  impa- 
tience to  finish  it,  that  he  might  begin  upon  another  still. 

There  were  hours,  however,  when  his  closed  doors 
refused  admittance  to  all — when  the  past,  too  strong  for 
him,  would  come  and  wrest  from  him  his  self-control, 
and  he  abandoned  himself  to  thoughts  which  soothed 
him  in  proportion  as  he  could  cheat  himself  by  making 
them  real.  It  was  at  such  times  as  these,  that  drawing 
from  a  curtained  recess  an  easel,  upon  which  stood  an 
unfinished  picture,  he  would  linger  over  it  with  touching- 
fondness,  occasionally  adding  a  line  which  his  memory 
recalled,  until  weariness  or  hunger  called  him  away 
from  the  sweet  smiling  eyes  which  seemed  almost  real 
in  their  tender  imman  expression.  And  this  was  to 
him  the  all  of  positive  pleasure  that  his  life  contained. 

Italy,  where  he  had  taken  up  his  abode,  is  proverbially 
a  cradle  for  the  world-worn,  the  weary,  the  solitary,  for 


364  Vernon  Grove. 

beneath  her  sunny  skies,  and  in  contemplation  of  her 
natural  and  artistic  beauties,  the  restless  soul-  should  be 
rocked,  if  anywhere  upon  earth,  into  calm  repose,  but 
Linwood  courted  its  fascinations  in  vain. 

Sometimes  hi  her  cypress  groves,  with  clustering  vines 
around  him  and  the  vale  of  the  Appenines  before  him, 
he  forgot  for  a  while  his  own  peculiar  sorrow,  the  sorrow 
of  life-loneliness,  in  the  sweet  fancy  that  she,  his  Sybil, 
was  by  his  side ;  or  when  roaming  above  Fiesole,  in 
reality  alone,  but  in  thought  always  accompanied  by 
another,  with  the  sense  of  the  divine  influence  of  the 
beautiful,  as  he  gazed  upon  jewelled  Florence  in  the 
burnished  setting  of  the  glisten  ing  Arno,  he  could  not 
separate  that  delightful  emotion  from  the  idea  that  she 
likewise,  standing  by  his  side,  though  invisible,  shared 
with  him  the  transient  happiness  of  a  joyful  feeling. 

Men  sometimes  wondered  at  the  rapt  and  absent 
demeanor  of  the  successful  artist ;  he  sought  no  com- 
panionships, but  seemed  to  be  all  sufficient  for  himself 
or  to  carry  about  with  him  a  presence  from  which  he 
cared  not  to  be  separated,  more  especially  since  he  was 
seen  one  day,  when  in  the  Tribune  at  Florence,  while 
gazing  at  a  beautiful  picture,  to  turn  to  an  imaginary 
being  at  his  side  saying,  softly — "Her  smile  is  yours, 
dear  Sybil." 

Linwood  loved  with  the  soul  of  an  artist,  loved  as 
those  do  upon  whom  God  has  written  the  word,  "  gifted." 
As  some  men  prize  their  gold,  their  reputation,  their 
honor,  Linwood  idolized  Sybil.  She  was  a  part  of  his 
life,  and  failing  to  obtain  such  a  blessing  as  her  constant 
presence,  he  held  her  sacred  in  his  memory. 

But  the  time  came  when  this  ideal  existence,  this  life 


Vernon  Grove.  365 

of  thought  must  wear  out  the  body  upon  which  it  acted. 
His  frame,  never  a  very  robust  one,  and  predisposed  by 
his  unequal,  sedentary  habits  to  weakness,  gradually 
gave  way.  Slowly  came  the  decline,  not  even  laying 
him  prostrate  in  the  prime  of  youth,  but  waiting  till 
middle  age  ere  the  final  blow  was  given.  His  step  was 
not  so  elastic,  nor  his  hair  so  richly  waving  as  of  yore, 
when  death  came  softly  and  took  him  from  his  life  of 
dreams,  whose  romance  he  carried  with  him  even  to  the 
grave. 

He  had  long  since  finished  the  mysterious  picture,  the 
Jfemory  upon  which  he  had  so  lovingly  wrought,  and 
when  he  found  that  his  fast  departing  strength  made 
him  a  prisoner  even  upon  his  couch,  he  had  it  hung 
where  he  might  see  it  ever,  and  but  part  with  its  pitying 
gaze  in  death.  Linwood  knew  that  he  must  die,  but 
the  change  which  he  saw  clearly  must  come,  had  no 
terrors  for  him.  He  had  lived,  he  hoped,  a  good  life, 
perhaps  a  selfish  one  as  regarded  that  all-absorbing 
thought  of  Sybil,  but  God  would  forgive  him,  he  said, 
for  that.  He  had  used  much  of  his  wealth  to  benefit 
others,  particularly  poor  and  struggling  artists  who 
were  industriously  toiling  upward,  and  to  Heaven  he 
had  committed  his  soul,  thus  fulfilling  the  two  chief 
commandments  towards  God  and  his  neighbor.  Xext 
to  God  came  his  devotion  to  Sybil,  to  her  memory  had 
he  dedicated  himself,  and  to  do  no  act  upon  which  her 
pure  eyes  could  have  looked  forbiddingly,  had  been 
the  guiding  star  of  his  life. 

He  was  dying,  at  length;  he  felt  it,  he  knew  it  l»y 
many  sio-ns  which  he  had  accustomed  himself  to  look 
upon  calmly,  and  he  sent  for  persons  to  whom  to  intrust 


366  Vernon  Grove. 

his  last  wishes.  His  bequest  was  a  simple  one,  and  soon 
reached  her  for  whom  alone  it  was  intended.  It  merely 
said,  "  As  I  have  lived,  so  do  I  die,  Sybil's.  All  that  is 
mine  is  hers.  God  keep  her.  Farewell." 

As  long  as  his  eyes  recognized  anything,  indeed  until 
they  finally  closed  in  death,  he  requested  that  the  picture 
which  always  hung  in  his  sight,  should  retain  its  place, 
and  then,  when  all  was  over,  that  it  might  be  forwarded 
to  Vemon  Grove  with  his  bequest.  This,  his  last  wish, 
was  religiously  attended  to,  and  even  in  the  final 
struggle  his  eyes  Avere  turned  lovingly  upon  it,  and  his 
lips  still  whispered  that  cherished  name. 

One  evening,  some  Aveeks  after  this  event,  the  inmates 
of  Vernon  GroA'e  hung  with  sorrowing  hearts  OATer  a 
package  Avhich  had  just  been  forwarded  to  them  from 
Italy,  and  Yernon  knew,  ere  it  was  unsealed,  that  it 
brought  intelligence  of  his  artist  friend.  Xo  letter  had 
passed  between  them  but  one  from  Yernon,  and  Lin- 
wood's  reply.  The  first  Avas  an  earnest  appeal  from 
Yernon  to  induce  the  artist  to  return  and  be  to  himself 
and  Sybil  even  as  a  brother.  The  answer  Avas  sorrowful 
but  firm,  Avishing  them  every  happiness,  desiring  them 
to  forget  his  existence,  and  to  leave  him  to  himself  in 
his  self-banishment. 

Sybil's  tears  could  not  be  repressed  as  she  read  the 
neAv  testimony  of  his  constancy  and  thought  of  the 
noble  and  generous  heart  that  lay  in  its  last  sleep  in  a 
foreign  land,  and  still  more  Avas  she  affected  by  that 
picture  of  herself,  Avhich  AATas  a  masterpiece  of  painting, 
and  as  a  likeness  truly  a  faithful  memory.  Xor  Avas 
Yernon  less  touched  by  this  instance  of  the  purity  and 
constancy  of  his  friend's  attachment  to  Sybil,  and  he  let 


Vernon  Grove.  367 

hor  weep  on  unrestrained,  deeming  her  tears  a  fitting 
tribute  to  one  who  had  so  loved  and  suffered. 

Eventually  the  picture  was  placed  in  a  curtained  niche 
as  something  sacred,  a  Memory  too  holy  to  be  exhibited 
to  careless  eyes,  and  even  the  little  children  drew  the 
covering  reverently  aside,  and  whispered  softly  to  each 
other  that  the  hand  that  had  painted  it  was  still  hi  death, 
and  that  it  was  so  prized  and  cared  for,  because  the 
artist  who  had  executed  it  had  lived  and  died  in  sorrow 
alone. 


CHAPTER   XXX. 

"  "When  first,  beloved,  in  vanished  hours 

The  blind  man  sought  thy  love  to  gain, 
They  said  thy  cheek  was  bright  as  flowers 

New  freshened  by  the  summer  rain. 
They  said  thy  movements,  swift  yet  soft, 

Were  such  as  make  the  winged  dove 
Seem,  as  it  gently  soars  aloft, 

The  image  of  repose  and  love. 
And  still  beloved,  till  life  grows  cold, 

"We'll  wander  'neath  a  genial  sky, 
And  only  know  that  we  are  old 

By  counting  happy  years  gone  by : 
For  thou  to  me  art  still  as  fair 

As  when  those  happy  years  began, — 
When  first  thou  cam'st  to  soothe  and  share 

The  sorrows  of  a  sightless  man." 

MRS.  NORTON. 

THE  course  of  our  narrative  brings  us  once  more  to  a 
winter's  evening  at  Vernon  Grove.  At  the  time  of 
which  we  are  writing,  the  building  in  which  Sybil  passed 
her  youth  was  no  longer  visible,  for  after  the  destruc- 
tive fire  that  had  occurred  there,  it  had  been  rebuilt 
with  numerous  modern  improvements,  making  it  the 
very  model  of  a  home  whose  chief  characteristic  was  its 
air  of  luxurious  comfort  and  elegance. 

The  inmates  were  sitting  before  a  glowing  wood  fire, 
for  Vernon  loved,  since  he  could  not  behold  the  blaze, 


Vernon  Grove.  369 

to  hear  the  hissing  of  the  sap,  the  crackling  of  the  dry 
logs,  and  the  cheerful  bustle  and  activity  accompanying 
the  piling  on  of  fresh  fuel ;  he  liked  to  know  that  the 
smoke  curled  up  in  graceful  volumes,  and  it  rejoiced  him 
to  listen  to  the  children's  prattle  as  they  traced  pictures 
in  the  changing  embers  while  they  brightened  or  faded, 
or  counted  the  sparks  in  busy  glee.  There  was  some- 
thing like  busy  life  in  his  home  fireside,  in  contrast  with 
the  silent  steady  heat  of  his  sister's  hearth,  where  the 
unbroken  monotony  was  only  interrupted  by  the  harsh 
unwelcome  sound  of  the  crash  of  coal  as  the  grate  was 
replenished.  The  first  soothed  him,  the  other  made  him 
restless  and  impatient. 

"  Sybil,"  said  he  to  his  wife,  who  sat  near  him,  "  since 
this  sweet  hour  has  returned  to  us  again,  this  hour  con- 
secrated to  heart-converse,  tell  me,  as  you  do  ever  at 
twilight,  exactly  what  is  passing  around  us  now ;  it  seems 
to  me  that  I  can  better  follow  you  in  all  your  avocations 
during  the  remainder  of  this  evening." 

She  whom  he  addressed  was  a  lovely  impersonation 
of  a  happy  wife  and  mother,  her  brow  unshaded  by  care, 
and  her  eyes  wearing  that  beaming  look  of  contentment, 
which  humanity,  even  with  its  birthright  of  sorrow, 
sometimes,  spite  of  sorrow  wears.  She  was  our  Sybil  of 
old,  save  that  her  form  was  rounder,  and  though  from 
her  step  had  departed  somewhat  of  its  lightness,  the  quiet 
dignity  which  pervaded  every  movement  made  up  for 
that  lost  grace  of  extreme  youth. 

"  Would  you  have  me  tell  the  story  as  usual,  in  my 
own  way,  Richard,  or  would  you  prefer  the  more  stately 
measure  of  the  rounded  periods  which  one  sees  in 
print?" 

16* 


370  Vernon  Grove. 

"  Tell  me  it  as  you  choose ;  I  never  tire  of  listening 
to  you." 

That  earnest  tone  of  truth,  though  said  with  the  small- 
est possible  degree  of  gallantry,  told  at  once  that  all  the 
romance  of  love  still  lingered  about  them,  and  the  soft 
blush  which  it  brought  to  Sybil's  face  indicated  plainly 
that  a  kind  word  from  him,  Avas  still  prized  beyond  any- 
thing that  the  rest  of  the  world  might  say. 

"Well,"  she  answered,  "as  the  boofcs  say, — It  is  a 
cold  and  stormy  night ;  the  rain  descends  in  torrents ; 
the  inmates  of  a  certain  pleasant  home  feel  neither  the 
rain  nor  the  cold,  for  God  has  given  them  a  good  shelter. 
Upon  the  hearth  glows  a  brilliant  fire,  illumining  Avith- 
out  lamp-light,  the  remotest  corner  of  the  apartment. 
Not  that  the  room  is  very  large,  but  it  is  just  the  size 
for  comfort.  A  rich  carpet,  upon  Avhich  crimson  flowers 
predominate,  covers  the  floor,  and  crimson  curtains  shade 
the  Avindows,  shutting  out  the  dreariness  of  the  night, 
yet  not  quite  shutting  in  the  comfort,  for  the.  passer-by, 
should  there  be  any,  would  say,  how  pleasant  it  must 
be  Avithin.  There  are  sofas,  and  couches,  and  lounges 
enough,  and  straight-backed  chairs  for  people  Avho  are 
opposed  to  modern  innoATations,  are  scattered  about : 
there  is  a  small  bookcase  on  one  side  of  the  room  Avhere 
Grecian  sages  stand  side  by  side  Avith  a  questionable 
looking  Mother  Goose,  and  where,  lying  irreverently 
upon  the  back  of  the  immortal  Homer's  Avorks,  reclines 
a  certain  unsatisfied  Jack  Horner  bound  in  indestruc- 
tible cloth!  Then  in  one  corner  of  the  room,  upon 
Avhich  are  A\rritten  the  invisible  letters,  '  /Sacred  to  tJie 
Children1  are  a  Noah's  ark  and  a  box  of  ninepins,  Avhilo 
in  niches  opposite  are  busts  of  Shakspeare  and  Dante, 


Vernon  Grove. 


37 1 


too  much  regarded  as  household  gods  to  be  sent  into 
banishment  in  the  best  parlor.  Besides  these,  there  is 
a  round  table  upon  which  stand  a  basket  of  delicate 
needlework,  a  book  with  a  mark  between  the  leaves, 
and  a  child's  porcelain  slate.  Near  the  fire  sits  a  man, 
a  noble  man  forsooth,  with  a  high  white  brow,  upon 
which  intellect  is  written ;  his  dark  hair  is  mixed  with 
silver,  a  token  that  he  has  met  and  walked  with  trouble, 
yet  there  is  such  a  look  of  content  upon  his  face,  his 
form  is  so  unbent,  his  whole  aspect  so  strikingly  superior 
to  that  of  other  men" 

"  Sybil,  shut  your  imaginary  book  at  once." 

"  By  no  means ;  let  me  tell  my  story  without  inter- 
ruption,— so  strikingly  superior  to  that  of  other  men, 
that  one  wonders  where  and  when  he  met  with  and 
walked  with  trouble." 

"  You  forget  his  blindness." 

"  No,  we,  the  book-makers  do  not  forget  his  blindness, 
but  if  it  makes  no  difference  to  him,  it  makes  none  what- 
ever to  us  /  we  rather  are  drawn  to  him  the  more,  for 
this  very  fact." 

Her  voice  was  toned  to  unutterable  tenderness  as  she 
said  these  last  words,  and  Vernon  half  arose  as  though 
to  clasp  his  arms  around  her,  but  she  playfully  told  him 
to  be  seated,  and  not  interrupt  the  narrative  as  it  was 
not  nearly  completed. 

"  Just  opposite  to  the  last  mentioned  individual,"  she 
continued,  "  is  a  woman  who  loves  him,  and  who  loved 
him  even  before  she  knew  it  herself  for  years  and  years. 
She  was  fair  once  they  say,  and  may  be  so  now,  but  the 
knowledge  of  it  only  affects  her  as  far  as  it  cMiablc-s  her 
to  see  with  what  a  gratified  look,  he,  of  tho  easy  chair 


37^  Vernon  Grove. 

yonder,  hears  that  she  is  pleasant  to  look  upon — for  she 
only  lives  for  him  and  his." 

Again  Vernon's  arms  were  unclasped,  while  he  uttered 
a  beseeching  "  Come,  Sybil,"  but  again  she  requested  him 
with  a  dignity  worthy  of  another  Fadladeen  to  be  quiet 
and  hear  the  conclusion. 

"  To  proceed  ; — on  the  floor,  hi  a  very  undignified 
posture,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  with  his  head  turned  towards 
the  fire,  and  holding  up  a  book  of  pictures  to  the  light, 
h'es  the  household  pet,  a  boy  resembling  him  of  the 
superb  presence  before  mentioned,  as  a  secondary  rain- 
bow resembles  the  first.  His  marked  thirst  for  know- 
ledge bespeaks  an  intelligence  beyond  his  years,  and 
gives  promise  of  a  distinguished  career.  As  he  numbers 
to-day  his  third  year,  he  is  privileged  to  retain  his  recum- 
bent posture,  until  broken  from  his  dream  of  distinction 
by  the  entrance  of  his  nurse,  who  will  presently  appear 
to  put  him  ingloriously  to  bed." 

A  bright  smile  which  was  beautiful  to  behold  flitted 
over  the  face  of  the  blind  man.  He  was  proud,  and 
justly  so,  of  his  boy,  whom  Sybil  had  so  playfully  described. 

"  Just  before  the  fire,"  continued  Sybil,  "  sits  Ruth, 
the  daughter  of  the  house,  gazing  in  deep  thought  into 
the  glowing  embers  as  though  she  were  reading  a  more 
interesting  story  there  than  that  told  by  her  lady  mother. 
Her  eyes  are  blue,  the  image  of  the  maternal  eyes,  save 
that  their  azure  is  a  thought  deeper,  but  she  has  her 
father's  dark  wavy  hair ;  at  this  moment  Ruth  is  in  a 
reverie  so  profound,  that  not  even  the  mention  of  her 
name  can  rouse  her  from  her  dreamy  state." 

"  Of  what  are  you  thinking  Ruth  ?"  said  Vernon,  this 
time  interrupting  Sybil  unrebuked. 


Vernon  Grove. 


373 


The  child,  thus  aroused,  answered,  but  before  we 
hear  the  sound  of  her  voice,  we,  the  writer  and  reader, 
must  pause  awhile  over  her  briefly  told  history. 

Ruth  Vernon  was  a  thoughtful  creature,  and  being 
six  years  older  than  her  little  brother,  she  was  the  self- 
constituted  guardian  of  the  child.  Having  no  companions 
but  her  father  and  mother,  she  had  learned  the  trick  of 
dignity,  and  in  their  quiet  country  home  was  already 
advanced  to  offices  of  trust  in  the  household.  Her  sober 
demeanor  had  early  rendered  her  an  acceptable  guide 
to  her  father,  and  she  would  sit  for  hours  listening  to 
the  conversation  of  her  parents,  with  an  absorbing 
interest  which  seemed  strange  to  those  who  did  not 
know  her  peculiar  bent  of  character,  and  the  circum- 
stances in  which  she  had  been  placed. 

There  was  one  being  in  the  world  to  whose  happiness 
she  was  almost  necessary,  and  this  was  the  blind  child 
of  Robert  and  Isabel  Clayton,  and  although  her  parents 
missed  her  sadly  in  her  absence,  they  often  sacrificed 
their  own  feelings  to  the  comfort  of  her  poor  afflicted 
cousin,  and  allowed  Ruth  to  make  stated  visits  to  the 
city.  From  one  of  these  visits  she  had  just  returned 
when  Sybil  was  so  playfully  describing  the  inmates  of 
Vernon  Grove. 

There  was  a  close  sympathy  between  the  cousins 
arising  partly  from  the  fact  that  Ruth  understood,  from 
long  attendance  upon  her  father,  the  peculiar  habits  of 
the  blind,  and  knew  better  how  to  interest  and  amuse 
her  than  any  other  of  her  young  companions ;  and  Eva 
soon  learned  to  recognize  her  step  and  rushed  to  meet 
her  when  she  heard  her  voice.  Another  reason,  perhaps, 
for  this  growing  attachment  was,  that  to  her  to  whom 


374  Vernon  Grove. 

toys  were  useless,  books  became  doubly  dear,  and  Ruth 
never  wearied  of  reading  volume  after  volume  to  the 
attentive  and  interested  child. 

The  household  at  Mr.  Clayton's  luxurious  home  is  a 
changed  one  since  last  we  saw  it,  each  and  all  feeling  the 
impress  of  the  blind  child's  gentle  and  lovely  character. 
God  sometimes  seems  to  create  mortals  who  are  almost 
sinless  from  birth,  rare  instances  of  inborn  goodness  as 
an  example  for  us  to  copy,  and  nearly  angelic  was  Eva's 
patient  endurance  of  her  peculiar  trials.  Isabel's  unre- 
flecting and  selfish  character  had  become  changed  under 
her  gentle  influence,  and  she  had  learned  to  love  her 
blind  child  with  a  passionate  fondness  which  we  often 
see  in  mothers  whose  children  are  deformed  or  diseased. 
The  gaiety  of  the  outer  world  \vas  now  to  her  only  as  a 
remembered  dream,  and  to  devise  plans  for  Eva's  amuse- 
ment, to  gaze  for  hours  upon  her  singular  beauty,  and 
to  wonder  what  would  be  her  destiny  in  the  long  years 
of  the  future,  was  her  sole  occupation.  Gradually,  how- 
ever, as  the  child  increased  in  years,  the  character  of 
Isabel's  care  became  changed.  A  tutor  was  employed 
who  devoted  himself  to  Eva  in  order  that  she  might  learn 
the  alphabet  of  the  blind,  and  every  little  tale  which  she 
read  herself  or  listened  to,  seemed  to  the  reflecting  child 
to  point  to  some  moral  which  was  especially  addressed 
to  herself.  From  this  came  a  longing  to  be  useful,  and 
Isabel  was  gradually  forced  to  become  a  party  to  her 
plans  for  clothing  and  feeding  the  hungry  poor,  while 
Eva  never  seemed  happier  than  when,  with  her  eyes 
darkened  alike  to  the  beauty  of  heaven  and  earth,  she 
visited  with  her  mother  the  abodes  of  poverty  and  wretch- 
edness, until  at  last  the  latter  became  interested  herself 


Vernon  Grove.  375 

in  their  cause,  and  learned  to  minister  with  judgment  to 
their  wants. 

When  the  blow  first  fell  upon  Clayton,  the  terrible 
truth  that  the  child  was  blind,  that  he,  the  fastidious 
worshipper  of  only  what  was  perfect  and  unblemished  in 
creation,  was  the  victim  of  so  terrible  a  judgment,  he 
was  like  one  bereft  of  his  senses,  cursing  his  destiny  and 
finding  fault  even  with  Providence  for  this  unthought-of 
affliction.  He  ordered  all  the  bright  and  costly  prepa- 
rations which  had  been  made  for  the  child  to  be  taken 
away ;  he  seldom  invited  a  guest  to  cross  his  threshold, 
and  the  house  was  as  silent  as  though  in  readiness  for 
some  funeral  rite,  while  the  disappointed  man  shut  him- 
self up  in  the  solitude  of  his  own  apartment  as  though 
mourning  the  dead.  But  such  an  utter  abandonment  to 
selfish  grief  could  not  continue  for  ever, — he  merged  into 
the  business  man,  the  man  of  the  world  once  more; 
walked  out  with  a  proud  air  among  his  associates,  and 
tried  with  renewed  efforts  to  live  down  his  terrible 
affliction.  Deeper  and  deeper  he  plunged  into  business, 
forgetting  in  the  day  his  peculiar  trials,  but  the  night 
came  when  he  turned  to  that  gloomy  home  and  to  the 
conviction  that  he  must  remember. 

And  the  child  won  even  him  at  last.  God  seemed  to 
have  sent  her  as  a  messenger  to  soften  his  heart,  to  turn 
him  from  self-worship,  and  to  teach  him  to  live  for 
others. 

As  long  as  the  nursery  regime  was  in  existence,  Clay- 
ton could  easily  shun  the  presence  of  his  child,  and  lie 
avoided  her  as  a  sight  which  gave  him  inexpressible  pain, 
so  different  was  she  from  other  children,  so  helpless  and 
yet  so  uncomplaining,  but  when  that  time  had  passed, 


376  Vernon  Grove. 

and  when  those  sweet  lips  had  learned  that  precious  word 
"  father"  and  the  little  arms  wound  themselves  cares- . 
singly  around  her  mother's  neck,  while  she  asked  coax- 
ingly  to  be  taken  into  the  absent  one's  presence,  Isabel 
ventured  to  bring  the  unconscious  offender  into  that 
father's  sight. 

Clayton  was  a  hard  man,  wasting  none  of  his  sympa- 
thies upon  objects  of  compassion,  and  at  first  he  turned 
away  from  that  angel-like  face,  and  busying  himself  with 
books  and  papers  pretended  not  to  see  her  pretty  ways ; 
but  children  are  obtrusive  and  persevering,  and  this  child 
soon  learned  to  know  when  another  was  in  the  room 
beside  that  gentle  mother,  and  climbing  around  his  knees 
or  leaning  her  sweet  face  against  him  as  she  sat  at  his 
feet,  she  at  last  won  him  from  his  books  to  watch  her. 

One  day, — it  was  a  marked  day  in  that  household, — 
Isabel  went  from  the  room  where  they  wrere,  and  left 
Clayton  and  his  child  together.  Eva,  then  three  years 
old,  and  somewhat  accustomed  to  localities,  after  group- 
ing about  in  vain  for  her  mother,  suddenly  turned  to 
Clayton  as  he  sat  regarding  her  simply  to  see  what  she 
would  do  next,  and  extending  her  arms  cried  out,  as  if 
beseeching  protection  in  that  one  all-prevailing  burden 
of  prayer,  "father  /"  It  was  a  sound  strangely  matured 
for  those  infant  lips,  but  it  had  become  familiar  by  being 
the  daily  and  hourly  lesson  of  her  mother.  From  that 
instant  the  man's  whole  nature  turned  to  love  and  pity, 
and  raising  the  little  one  in  his  arms,  he  soothed  her  with 
gentle  words  and  caresses  until  she  fell  back  asleep  upon 
his  shoulder. 

After  that  period  the  father  and  child  were  as  one. 
Clayton  became  a  child  once  more  for  her  sake,  and  con- 


Vernon  Grove. 


377 


stituted  himself  her  guardian,  her  companion,  her  friend. 
To  Isabel,  towards  whom  in  the  violence  of  his  grief  and 
disappointment  he  had  been  cold  and  unloving,  he 
returned  once  more  to  what  he  had  ever  been  before  that 
episode  in  their  hitherto  calm  life,  and  a  smile  came  once 
more  to  her  lips  and  color  to  her  faded  cheek.  No 
longer  endeavoring  to  find,  hi  the  excitements  of  business 
a  compensation  for  his  want  of  interest  in  his  home,  he 
longed  for  the  day  to  end  which  would  bring  him  into 
the  presence  of  those  two  who  awaited  him,  and  with 
some  fresh  contrivance  to  amuse  the  helpless  one,  some 
new  budget  of  simple  books,  he  met  their  words  of  loving 
welcome. 

And  thus  Clayton  felt  himself  a  changed  man ;  he  had 
another  object  besides  the  accumulation  of  wealth  and 
show,  nor  was  that  wealth  and  show  appreciated  by  those 
who  loved  him  and  whom  he  loved  so  tenderly.  The 
one  had  overcome  her  passion  for  display,  the  other  had 
never  seen  the  brilliant  appendages  which  surrounded 
her,  and  it  mattered  little  in  her  estimation  whether 
glittering  jewels  clasped  her  arms  and  decked  her  bosom, 
or  if  they  were  unadorned  in  their  own  graceful  sim- 
plicity. Gently  was  he  led  on  from  one  act  of  forbear- 
ance to  another,  and  earnestly  did  he  try  to  hide  his 
faults  of  character  from  his  child,  for  she  had  an  ideal  in 
her  mind  of  what  he  was,  and  it  became  his  aim  to  liv> 
up  to  it,  and  in  so  trying,  it  is  not  to  1«e  wondered  at 
that  he  was  successful. 

"We  each  have  a  mission  assigned  to  us  in  our  pil- 
grimage if  we  would  but  view  the  purposes  of  life  aright, 
and  it  was  hers  to  improve  his  character,  simply  by  the 
example  which  unconsciously  she  set. 


378  Vernon  Grove. 

Dr.  Bailey  himself  was  no  oculist,  but  not  long  after 
Eva's  birth  he  brought  with  him  a  friend  who  was  one, 
to  pronounce  upon  the  case,  and  from  a  few  words  which 
he  had  said,  scarcely  intended,  however,  to  give  her 
parents  hope  for  any  change  in  the  child's  condition, 
Clayton  never  entirely  relinquished  the  idea  that  sight 
might  eventually  be  hers. 

"In  the  course  of  years  when  she  can  nerve  herself  to 
bear  the  trial,"  said  the  oculist,  "  an  operation  could  be 
performed  which  might  result  in  giving  her  sight,  but  it 
must  necessarily  be  a  very  painful  one,  and  she  will 
require  a  strong  will  and  an  unflinching  courage  in  order 
to  be  able  to  endure  it,  and  even  then  the  practitioner 
may  not  be  successful.  Were  the  child  mine,  I  would 
almost  rather  let  her  remain  as  she  is,  than  raise  hopes 
which  in  the  end  may  be  crushed  with  disappointment." 

From  Clayton's  mind,  we  have  said,  these  words  never 
entirely  faded,  and  Isabel,  too  timid  to  dwell  upon  them 
for  fear  of  a  disappointment  in  the  end,  left  the  whole 
matter  to  his  responsibility,  and  as  the  child  grew  in 
years  and  so  early  developed  great  decision  of  character, 
Clayton  gradually  revealed  to  her  the  hopes  and  fears 
of  the  oculist.  His  plan  was  to  let  her  become  accus- 
tomed to  the  idea,  to  set  some  fixed  time  for  the  trial, 
and  then  to  leave  the  result  to  a  higher  power.  At  first 
Eva  shrank  from  the  thought  as  one  too  terrible  to  be 
endured ;  the  bodily  pain  which  she  knew  that  she  must 
meet  and  bear  frightened  her;  then  gradually  as  her 
father  had  hoped,  the  anticipation  became  familiar  to 
her,  and  when  he  fondly  dwelt  upon  a  brilliant  result 
rather  than  upon  the  darker  side  which  the  physician 
had  been  so  careful  not  to  omit,  she  promised  to  think 


Vernon  Grove.  379 

seriously  upon  the  subject,  and  to  let  him  know  when,  if 
ever,  she  could  submit  to  the  trying  ordeal. 

The  little  cousins  had  many  an  earnest  conversation 
upon  the  subject,  and  Eva  had  solemnly  exacted  a  pro- 
mise from  Ruth  that  she  would  be  present,  if  the  time 
should  ever  arrive,  to  cheer  and  comfort  her. 

Ruth  had  just  entered  her  ninth  and  Eva  her  eleventh 
year,  when  the  latter  felt  that  to  please  her  father,  whom 
she  loved  with  an  all-absorbing  devotion,  and  to  set  the 
matter  at  rest  for  ever,  she  would  endure  for  his  sake 
the  long-talked-of  trial.  Now  that  the  time  had  really 
arrived,  it  was  astonishing  to  see  how  differently  differ- 
ent characters  were  impressed  and  affected  by  the 
thought  of  a  ciisis  so  fraught  with  pain  and  uncertainty ; 
they  underwent  a  change  which  made  them  strangers  to 
themselves.  Thus  Isabel,  who  in  contemplation  of  the 
event  had  ever  been  irresolute  and  timid,  now  stood  by, 
ready  to  answer  to  any  call  for  assistance,  her  cheeks 
pale,  indeed,  but  her  whole  tone  and  manner  calculated 
to  inspire  the  blind  child  with  confidence  ;  while  Clayton, 
dreading  what  he  had  most  advocated,  fled  away  from 
the  scene,  far  from  sight  or  sound  of  suffering.  And  to 
Eva,  who  was  most  concerned,  the  contemplated  opera- 
tion, as  far  as  outward  appearances  could  be  judged, 
brought  no  terror, — and  her  sweet  low  voice  which  said 
simply,  "father,  I  am  ready  nowf  betrayed  no  weak 
tremor  in  its  utterance.  They  were  simple  words 
enough,  but  the  secret  of  their  calmness  lay  in  the  fact 
that  they  had  been  preceded  by  days  and  hours  of 
prayer. 

Rough  Dr.  Bailey,  softer  than  usual,  held  that  little 
head  with  its  glossy  waves  of  hair  to  keep  it  steady,  but 


380  Vernon  Grove. 

it  trembled  far  less  than  he  did,  for,  having  watched 
Eva  from  her  infancy,  he  had  learned  to  love  her,  and 
was  intensely  interested  in  the  result  of  the  experiment 
which  he  had  himself  advocated.  Xear  Eva,  and  a  very 
important  personage  in  the  group,  stood  Ruth,  true  to 
her  promise,  holding  her  cousin's  hand,  and  bidding  her 
take  courage,  and  that  all  would  end  well. 

"Patience,"  said  the  operator  softly,  "a  pang,  and 
half  the  suffei-ing  will  be  over." 

The  little  hand  which  held  Ruth's  was  clasped  more 
tightly,  and  a  groan  smote  upon  the  listeners'  ears.  The 
room  reeled  with  the  heroic  child,  a  faintness  came  over 
her,  but  she  was  soon  herself  again. 

"  Would  you  not  rather  wait  a  day  or  two  for  the 
other  eye  to  be  operated  upon?"  said  the  kind  physician; 
"  a  week  hence  or  a  month  will  answer." 

"No,"  answered  Eva,  with  quiet  self-possession,  "let 
it  be  done  to-day,  now ;  I  do  not  think  that  I  could  bear 
the  suspense,  and  it  would  please  my  father  to  know 
that  it  was  all  over." 

Love  sustained  her ;  another  sigh,  a  groan,  and  it  was 
finished. 

Then  came  the  bandages,  the  darkened  room,  the 
stillness,  the  repose  for  one  whose  nerves,  all  unstrung 
by  the  reaction,  needed  rest,  but  often  those  little  cou- 
sinly hands  were  clasped  together  in  a  pressure  which 
spoke  more  love  than  many  words. 

The  physicians  only  allowed  Clayton  to  enter  Eva's 
room  at  intervals,  for  his  presence  always  excited  her, 
and  turned  the  conversation  to  that  one  absorbing  topic, 
the  hope,  that  in  the  end,  she  would  have  her  sight ; 
but  though  almost  banished  from  her  companionship, 


Vernon  Grove.  381 

he  thought  but  of  her,  and  his  business  life  was  entirely 
forgotten  in  the  intense  interest  with  which  he  awaited 
the  final  result.  Isabel  could  scarcely  be  reconciled  to 
the  suffering  which  Eva  had  endured,  to  end,  perhaps, 
in  disappointment — she  loved  her  child  in  her  blindness 
as  much  as  mother  could  love,  and  did  not  see  the  neces- 
sity of  perchance  a  fruitless  experiment,  but  still  under 
her  restless  manner  one  could  see  that  she,  too,  looked 
forward  to  the  finale  with  trembling  anxiety.  But  even 
had  the  termination  of  that  fearful  ordeal  been  what 
they  most  dreaded,  many  a  lesson  of  forbearance  had 
been  learned  by  both  in  the  fortitude  displayed  by  their 
child,  her  patience  and  trust,  and  her  calm  resignation 
to  the  will  of  Providence,  whatever  that  will  might  be. 

A  look  from  a  physician  has  often  more  weight  than 
many  words  spoken  by  others,  and  Ruth  first  interpreted 
the  expression  on  the  oculist's  face  which  led  them  to 
hope  for  a  happy  result  when  the  hour  of  decision 
arrived.  The  agitation  of  the  parents  was -too  great 
for  them  to  remain  close  to  Eva  when  the  final  moment 
of  investigation  came,  and  in  the  little  entry  which  led 
into  Eva's  room,  they  awaited  the  summons  which  was 
to  give  them  joy  inexpressible,  or  a  life-long  weight  of 
sorrow.  They  dared  not  remain  within,  for  fear  of  disap- 
pointment ;  they  dared  not  be  far  away,  for  fear  that 
they  might  lose  the  first  intelligence  that  she  was  blessed 
with  sight. 

Slowly,  cautiously,  the  bandages  were  removed,  those 
little  clasped  hands  still  giving  each  other  courage,  for 
Ruth  needed  it  nearly  as  much  as  Eva,  and  her  heart- 
beats could  almost  be  heard  in  the  silence.  That 
earnest  face  of  Ruth's  was  a  study,  as  the  different 


382  Vernon  Grove. 

emotions  of  love,  pity,  fear,  and  hope  crossed  it,  as 
shadows  flit  across  the  sky,  until  at  last  the  end  came 
and  she  saw,  as  her  eyes  sought  the  physician's  face,  a 
broad,  cheerful,  happy  smile.  Ruth  was  a  heroine,  but 
there  were  some  circumstances  under  which  it  would 
have  been  impossible  for  her  to  control  herself, — and 
this  proved  one.  She  thought  not  of  consequences, — 
she  only  thought  of  that  unceasing  prayer  which  had 
been  breathed  by  the  household  for  many  weeks,  and 
that  it  Avas  granted  at  length. 

"She  will  see,  she  will  see,"  she  exclaimed;  "Eva, 
love,  do  you  hear  ?" 

The  physician  gave  her  a  stern  look  as  a  rebuke  for 
her  indiscretion,  but  it  was  too  late,  Eva  had  fainted. 

"Ruth  is  right,"  said  he  to  the  father  and  mother 
who  had  rushed  in  at  that  blessed  announcement,  "  but 
too  abrupt ;  her  cousin  and  herself  are  wonderful  little 
women  in  times  of  trial  and  danger,  but  neither  of  them 
are  equal  to  a  sudden  joy." 

We  shall  not  follow  the  Claytons  through  Eva's  long 
and  tedious  recovery ;  it  is  enough  to  say  that  the  les- 
sons that  misfortune  had  taught  them  were  not  forgot- 
ten when  prosperity  returned,  and  that  they  remembered 
that  living  for  others  was  a  surer  means  of  happiness 

than  living  entirely  for  themselves. 

****** 

Poor  little  Ruth ! — how  long  is  it  since  we  left  her 
looking  dreamily  into  the  fire,  with  her  father's  question 
unanswered — "  Well,  Ruth,  of  what  are  you  thinking?" 

"  Sometimes  of  Eva,  who  suffered  so  much  pain  and 
was  so  patient  and  good  (but  of  her  I  told  you  this 
morning),  and  sometimes  of  other  things  which  hap- 


Vernon  Grove.  383 

pened  at  uncle  Clayton's.  Just  then,  when  you  spoke 
to  me,  I  was  thinking  of  a  lady,  a  tall,  beautiful  lady$ 
who  came  sometimes  to  see  us,  and  whom  aunt  Isabel 
called  Florence.  One  day  she  took  me  aside,  and  clasp- 
ing her  arms  around  me,  she  looked  a  long  while  in  my 
face.  At  last  she  said,  '  Ruth,  did  they  ever  tell  you 
that  though  your  eyes  are  blue,  their  expression  is  very 
like  that  of  your  father's  eyes  ?'  " 

"  '  But  he  is  blind,'  I  said. 

"  '  I  mean  they  resemble  his  as  they  were  years  ago,' 
she  said,  and  then  she  sighed  so  sadly  that  I  knew  deep 
down  in  her  heart  she  had  some  trouble  that  gave  her 
pain. 

"  '  You  always  come  here  alone,'  I  said,  '  have  you  no 
one  to  take  care  of  you,  no  little  children  waiting  for 
you  at  home  ?' 

"  '  God  help  me  ;  I  have  no  one — no  one  !'  she  said. 

"  Then  she  wept  bitterly,  and  though  it  may  have 
been  wrong,  I  asked  her  if  she  was  sorry  for  anything 
she  had  done. 

"  '  God  grant  that  you  may  never  have  sorrow  like 
mine,'  she  said,  and  then  she  put  me  away  from  her,  and 
left  me." 

Ere  Ruth  had  entirely  finished  her  simple  narration, 
Sybil  despatched  her  upon  some  trivial  errand  from  the 
room. 

"  You  have  sent  Ruth  away,  Sybil,"  said  Yernon, 
rising  and  approaching  her,  "  will  you  tell  me  why, 
dearest  ?  I  was  quite  interested  in  her  remarks,  and 
would  have  liked  to  question  her  farther." 

Sybil  was  mortal ;  it  is  of  hearts  that  we  are  telling, 
and  hers  was  not  above  a  momentary  weakness. 


384  Vernon  Grove. 

"  I  feared,"  she  said  softly,  laying  her  hand  caressingly 
upon  Vernon's  arm,  "  that  if  she  had  said  anything  fur- 
ther, your  pity  might  have  led  you  to  regret." 

"  I  have,  indeed,  sometimes  to  pity,  but  nothing  to 
regret^  he  said  tenderly.  "  I  have  known  no  sorrow, 
no  pang  of  disappointment,  since  the  tender  green  of  the 
ivy  mingled  its  bright  foliage  with  the  weather-beaten 
leaves." 

Gently  he  raised  her  hands  and  laid  them  about  his 
neck  until  they  almost  clasped  each  other,  then  winding 
his  arms  around  her,  he  bent  down  and  kissed  her  brow. 

We  would  like  to  leave  them  there  twining  still,  like 
the  ivy  to  which  he  had  likened  them,  but  in  truth  we 
cannot,  for  there  is  a  little  heart  in  the  room  throbbing 
passionately  with  a  feeling  of  jealousy,  without  knowing 
for  whom,  or  why,  or  wherefore.  The  pet  of  the  house- 
hold, with  his  elbows  on  the  carpet  and  his  chin  on  his 
hands,  is  seriously  regarding  his  parents ;  then  approach- 
ing them  he  attempts  to  clasp  them  both  in  his  arms, — 
failing  in  which,  he  piteously  demands  that  he,  too, 
might  be  spared  a  caress. 

His  demand  being  satisfied,  our  story  is  ended. 


THE  EXD. 


CATALOGUE 

OF    THE 

PUBLICATIONS 

OF 

RUDD  &  CARLETON, 

310  BROADWAY, 

NEW  YORK. 


NEW  BOOKS 

And   New   Editions   Just  Published   by 

RUDD  &   CARLETON, 

310  BROADWAY,  NEW  YORK, 


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